Shattered Gowns and Broken Crowns
by ESpencer
Summary: "A king without power is no king at all." After he is defeated by Sarah, the Goblin King is dethroned by a dangerous rival and imprisoned within a neighboring kingdom. Meanwhile, Sarah-now on the cusp of turning 18-must find a way to rescue him and return the power she has stolen, or else assume the Goblin Throne herself.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_You have no power over me_. The words rang again and again through the mind of the Goblin King, pinging around in his skull with all the danger of stones flung in a glass house. He collapsed into his throne, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

How could he have let this happen? He had never lost control of a runner before. He was always, _always_ two steps ahead. He knew how to manipulate a move before they even made it; he had ensured that the only possible outcome was failure. And fail they had. One after another, century after endless century. No one had ever before had the force of will to make it through his labyrinth.

_Until that damned little bitch Sarah Williams_, he thought, grinding his teeth to the point of discomfort. He had never imagined that a spoiled brat of a girl would have the strength to endure and outwit him. Who would have thought that behind those wide, green eyes was a creature that matched the beast within him? Who would have ever thought she had the nerve to overcome him? But overcome him she had, proving herself a most admirable challenger.

And that was the worst of it. Through it all, he could not help but admire her. She had stood up to him in ways no one else had ever dared. She had met his challenges and turned his subjects against him. She was clever and resourceful when need be and caring and compassionate when it was not. He had told her that he moved the stars for no one, and it was true. But she did not need him to; she had turned the world upside down all on her own. And he hated her for it.

_That's a lie_, a different part of his subconscious chirped. Jareth scowled, sinking deeper into his throne.

_It is not. She's ruined my favorite game, and I hate her_, he argued back.

_You could never hate her. _

_Yes I could. I do. _

_You don't. You l-_

"Oh, shut up!" Jareth barked aloud, hoping to silence his unruly subconscious. He was somewhat surprised when a voice answered back.

"Now, now, brother. Is that any way to greet a guest?"

His head snapped around, taking in the latest intrusion. His eyes fell on a lithe figure sitting on the edge of the pit at the center of the room. She was swinging her legs idly back and forth, as comfortable as if she had spent the better part of her life reclining there. When, in truth, her presence there was as startling as seeing a goblin take flight.

Jareth shook his head as though to clear it. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked, not bothering to disguise his confusion and slight distrust.

The elegant woman giggled in response. "You mean you haven't guessed? I must confess, Jareth, I'm a bit disappointed. I thought you were smarter than this."

Jareth glared at her, disliking the way she seemed to know something he didn't. He was equally angry with himself for allowing her to catch him off-guard. It had been decades since he'd had a private audience with his younger sister, and millennia since they'd had an encounter that ended peacefully. If she was here, in the castle, it meant she was plotting something. And he was not presently in the correct frame of mind to deal with her schemes.

"Get out," he ordered plainly.

"You're hurting my feelings, you know," she said with a mock pout. Her bottom lip trembled terribly, and she sniffled like she was holding back tears. Only the mischief in her clear blue eyes gave her away.

He regarded her carefully, his lip snarling in distaste. "All the more reason to leave quickly, then."

Jareth moved forward as if to stand, fully intent on grabbing her by the scruff of the neck and throwing her out. But as he attempted to rise, a wave of exhaustion swept over him, forcing him back into his throne. She noticed, of course, and flashed a grin that could cut like a knife.

"Feeling tired, love? Perhaps you should retire for the evening."

"And leave you here alone?" he asked, fighting against the grogginess with wit. "You must have smacked that pretty little head of yours on the way here."

She shrugged in response. "Say what you will. I'm not the one with droopy eyelids."

Jareth forced his eyes open, suddenly very aware of how hard it was to do so. "What do you know of this?" he implored.

"Who me? Why should I know anything?" she feigned innocence.

"_Delicia_…" he ground out.

"Jareth," she challenged back.

He growled to himself. This was getting him nowhere. He would not have the strength to endure this for much longer. His limbs were growing heavy, and they tingled faintly like they had already given in to sleep.

"_Please_," he conceded, "Tell me why you are here."

Sighing, she withdrew herself from the pit and approached him. "Father's angry with you."

He used the remains of his energy to laugh. "Father's always angry with me."

"True," she allowed, "But before you had never let a child best you in battle."

Jareth prickled at that. _Damn, he knows_, he cursed while simultaneously scolding himself for not anticipating this. _Of course he knows. He never did have much faith in his precious baby boy. _

"I underestimated her," he sighed, admitting defeat.

"That's not how Father sees it."

"Oh, and how _does_ our darling father see it?" he roared, finally succeeding in sitting upright on the throne.

Delicia did nothing but stare for a few moments, allowing the heat of his anger to pass before dropping her bomb. "He believes you have fallen in love with her."

Jareth squirmed in his seat, pulling a gloved hand through his hair. He should have anticipated this as well. In allowing thoughts of Sarah, he had obviously let a few things slip by him. "And what makes him believe that?"

"Did you not think he would hear about that little gala you put on for her earlier in the evening? Really, Jareth, you should try to keep up. Half the gentry in the kingdom saw the way you looked at her."

"Including you," he said, noting that she was still dressed in her sage-green ball gown, her pale blond hair immaculately curled. She was absent only the garish mask of a goblin.

"Including me."

"Is he as angry at you for attending as he is with me for hosting?"

"I'm not the one who wanted to fuck the little girl," she quipped, making Jareth scowl in distaste. "Though I must say, she did have a certain amount of…innocent charm. Given a few years I might have tried my luck with her."

Jareth was in her face then, suddenly and frighteningly. He grasped her by the jaw just hard enough for her to feel it and burned his gaze into hers. He could feel the alarm pulsing through her. Though it was true they had not gotten along in years, Jareth had never placed a foul hand on her until now. He was pleased to note that it was having the desired effect.

"You will never make such an implication again, Delicia, do you understand?" he snarled. "Sister or no, if I suspect you of doing her harm, I will not hesitate to stop you by any means necessary."

He released her then, allowing her to fret over his abrasiveness, though he had barely left a mark. "Heavens help us, you really are in love with her, aren't you?"

"_Love_ has nothing to do with it," he grumbled. His outburst left him almost completely drained, his tongue beginning to feel thick and clumsy in his mouth.

"You poor fool. Love has everything to do with it. Father could not care less if you bedded her, or bogged her, or turned her into a goblin maid to shine your shoes. But love is where he draws the line."

"Well you can assure Father that he need not concern himself on that front. I love Sarah Williams even less than I love you."

"While I'd be flattered to be held in such high regard, this isn't a matter that can be so easily swept under the rug. Why, you're showing signs of it already."

Jareth's ears pricked at that. _What is she talking about_? He quickly tried to categorize what he was presently feeling into some sort of diagnosis, but he came up with nothing.

"Signs of what?" he asked, dreading her answer.

Delicia face lit up like she was finally able to let him in on the greatest of all jokes. "Of dying."

Jareth froze in his throne as if ice water rather than blood were suddenly pumping through his veins. He could not be dying. Fae lived for thousands upon thousands of years. He had only just begun to chip away at his life expectancy. No, Delicia was mistaken. He was fit, and healthy, and powerful…

Powerful. That was it. Suddenly it all made perfect sense. His fatigue, his loss of focus, his inability to remain upright. It all came back to power. And the longer he sat there, the more he could feel it leaking out of him. With his every breath it seemed to ooze out of his pores and get sucked up by the air.

"De- Delicia," he groaned, "You must take me to Father."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Jareth had lost track of her as he pieced everything together, and found that her voice came from behind him as she blew out the last of the candles that lit the room.

"You see, brother dear, your little lapse in judgment has created quite the opportunity for me." She was circling the room now, making Jareth's head loll as he fought through the dizziness to keep an eye on her. "A king without powers is no king at all. And without a strong ruler, the Goblin City will fall to pieces. Which is where I step in…"

"Why the sudden interest? You've always hated the goblins," Jareth retorted, feebly trying to extend his waning time.

"True, but it's not really the inhabitants that I'm after. It's the sovereignty that comes with it.

"You see, love, as your power fades, so does your connection to this part of the kingdom. And without you, the labyrinth will seek out a new ruler. Someone strong, and capable, and _close _enough to take charge. Once it's selected its new leader, all of its power will flow to her."

"You'll never rule this place!" he snarled, not caring if it was an empty threat.

Delicia laughed full in his face. "Oh you poor, precious thing. Can't you see? My reign has already begun."

Jareth looked down as shackles snaked their way around his wrists and ankles, making it impossible for him to move. Now frantic, he glanced around the throne room for some means of defense that he could call on, some way to get out of this nightmare.

He gave a sigh of relief when he saw the goblins beginning to crowd around the door. Surely they would help him. They could look past getting kicked around and bogged a time or two, couldn't they? He was a good king to them. He allowed them to drink ale until they burst, to bring their precious chickens into the palace. He even sang and danced with them! They would do well to defend their sovereign.

But as they crept closer, Jareth's relief caught in his throat. There was something off about his goblins. They lacked the perpetually cheerful demeanor of the dim witted. The creatures before him now moved much more aggressively than what he was used to. And their eyes…They were not his goblins anymore. He could see that clear as day.

Jareth slumped back in his throne. He was tired and no longer had the strength to remain upright. Defeat crashed over him in a great tidal wave of despair, and his chains seemed to tighten all the more for it.

_This is all _her_ fault. _He thought, biting his tongue as he did. All of this pain, all of this humiliation because of Sarah. He did not care how thoroughly his father and sister were convinced of his love for her; in that moment, he swore to loathe Sarah Williams forever.


	2. Welcome to a World Called Crazy

Sarah Williams sat on her front porch, starring passively at the rain as she tried to convince herself—not for the first time—that she was happy. Focusing in on the gentle pitter-patter of rain on the roof, it was almost possible.

She had always loved the rain; that is, when she was safe from getting drenched by it. As she was now, under the protection of the porch awning, she could fully appreciate it.

_It was raining that day too_, she mused. As soon as the thought had formed, she was frowning again. It had been almost three years since she had wished her baby brother Toby away and been forced to run the labyrinth to get him back. She had contended with riddles and deceptions at every turn and had come out the better for it. She had made friends the likes of which she had never known before and learnt things that were as invaluable to her as Toby's safety.

And she had outmatched the King of the Goblins. That she remembered as clearly as if it had happened only moments ago. He had offered her his world, and she'd turned it down in favor of her own. And she did not regret any of it. Honestly. But that did not mean that her time in the Underground had not left a scar.

After seeing the Underground with all its fantastical creatures and sprawling landscapes, nothing in the Aboveground could compare. Places she had once loved now seemed to have lost their luster. The park she had frequented to practice her acting skills, once so beautiful and picturesque, now looked paltry and sparse. It was as though everything in her life had gotten the volume turned down. If she tried hard enough, she could still make do, but it was a poor substitute to life at full blast.

Eventually it had all become too much to bear. She made the conscious decision to forget her connection to the Underground. It was more easily done than she anticipated. After her friends' first visit through her mirror, they had ceased to make an appearance. Sarah had been hurt at first by their abandonment, but she soon decided it was for the best.

Along with their departure, she had put away her childish things. Most of the toys were passed down to Toby or donated to charity. Many of her books were placed in storage, and the posters adorning her walls taken down. The one of the Escher room was burned.

She'd even chosen to put away the pictures of her mother. It had been years since they had seen each other, and it had suddenly seemed foolish to idolize the woman who had discarded her so carelessly. It had all gone in a box that was pushed into the farthest corner of the garage.

Moving on had come more easily after that. In all the time since, she had grown up even more. She took care of Toby without having to be asked. She was always on time, and she came home when she said she would be. She went on dates like Karen wanted. Though, in all honesty, Sarah was still rather uncomfortable with that aspect of her almost adult life.

The boys that took her out were always kind and gentlemanly but, for whatever reason, it never seemed to work out. Sarah thought it was a difference in levels of maturity. Her father had always said she was an old soul, and Sarah never agreed more keenly than when she was being asked to participate in beer pong or quarters. It all felt mind-numbingly juvenile. By the end of the night she was grateful to be parted from it, leaving her dates with half puckered lips and dumbfounded expressions.

As for the rest of her life…Things moved on predictably. She had finished all of her college applications and was hopeful at her chances of being accepted. Her father was proud of her decision to apply as a business major. A "very practical and grown-up decision" he called it. Sarah was pleased to have pleased him. She did not dwell on her forgotten dream of being an actress.

Except for when she watched the rain. Then all the feelings she had long dismissed came rushing back. And she, like a raindrop pulled down by gravity, was powerless to stop it.

_You're pathetic_, she told herself. _You're going to be eighteen in less than a week. It's time to stop moping. _

"Penny for your thoughts?" a voice called from the steps of the porch. Sarah turned away from the rain, greeting her visitor with a smile.

"Hey, Will," she replied, "We can go inside if you want."

"No, this is perfect," he said, plopping down beside her on the swing. Sarah found she was glad for his company.

Will Calhoun had moved in down the street shortly after Sarah's return from the Underground. He had been among the first to work up the courage to ask her out on a date, and she had agreed.

Will was not like the guys who tried to impress her with bustling parties and blaring music. In fact, his level of maturity was much more on par with hers. They had actually gone out three times before Sarah decided that something was missing. It wasn't anything that he said or did, she just found that she wasn't attracted to him in that way.

When she finally broke the news to him, she could see the disappointment in his face. And, like a coward, she had tried to run from it. But before she could make her getaway, he had called after her. He asked if they could be friends instead, and she had seen that he meant it. So friends they had become, remaining close to inseparable for the last two and a half years.

Sarah had found early on that Will was a great help in overcoming what had happened in the labyrinth. She had worked up the courage to tell him all about it, and he assured her that he believed her. She recognized that he was likely humoring her, but it felt good to have someone to confide in. And when she'd told him that she wanted to forget it all, he was nothing but supportive. He was willing to talk when she wanted to talk, and he took her out when she wanted to go out.

Together they had built a friendship that was based on trust and reliability. Will could be counted upon no matter what. He was stable, and polite, and understanding. And, most importantly, decidedly non-magical.

"So, what's got Sensible-Sarah feeling down today?" Will asked, reading her mood perfectly.

Sarah sighed, offering a weak smile. "I don't know, I guess I'm just having a lot of thoughts." Will narrowed his eyes, pressing for more information. Her smile grew a bit; she never was able to slip anything by him. "My birthday's just a few days away, and I guess it's got me thinking about…the future."

Will's eyes widened for a moment, and then he chuckled, his mousy brown curls shaking as he did. "A mid-life crisis at eighteen. I shouldn't have expected anything less."

"Shut up!" Sarah scolded, playfully punching his arm. "And it's not a crisis, it's just... strange. I mean, this time next year I'll be living miles away from here in a dorm."

"That is something," Will agreed, somewhat wistfully. Sarah bit her lip. She knew talking about her impending departure was a sensitive subject. All of the schools she had applied to were out of state. Far enough from the house that lead her to the labyrinth that she would only have to think about it twice a year. But it also meant leaving Will behind.

His father was an ex-Military commander living on his retirement pension. While it was enough for them to get by, Sarah knew that Will's only prospects for higher education were at the local community college or in the service. And he had made it clear to her that he did not intend to follow in his father's footsteps.

Sarah disliked the thought of leaving her best friend as much as he did, but she could not see a way around it. She needed to get out of this house, out of this life. Even thinking about it for too long brought along an unfathomable pain, the likes of which she could not make sense of. It was like her chest was caving in on itself, making it harder and harder to breath. The world she currently inhabited was not meant for her. It no longer wanted her, and she was quickly losing the patience required to endure it. She needed to be somewhere that she could truly forget about what had happened to her. Then, maybe, she could remember how to be happy again.

Though the silence had stretched on for quite a while, Will did not feel the need to break it. He knew that Sarah would speak when ready. He could practically see the wheels of her mind turning as she collected the words she wanted, stitched them together in precisely the right order, and worked up the courage to speak.

"Will…Do you think if I wished myself away I could get out of here?" she asked. There, she had said it. The words hung precariously in the air, heavy with the weight of potential. A drop of water about to fall from the faucet.

Will paused, taking a moment to consider his own response. "No."

"I'm not kidding-"

"I know you're not," he cut her off. "But believe me, wishing won't solve your problems. I've tried."

Sarah's heart sank. "Oh no! Will I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," he assured her. "I know you didn't mean it the way it sounded. We all have our problems…"

"No, it's not okay. God—you must think I'm a spoiled brat, huh?"

"Well, I do think that," he said with a lopsided grin, "But not for the reason you're implying." It only made Sarah feel worse. "Come on, Sar, don't be so hard on yourself. It's really no big deal. My dad gets drunk and uses me as a punching bag. See? I have no problem saying it."

"You should, though," she returned, grasping his hand in hers. Then she sighed. "It really isn't fair."

"_Toughen up, be a man_," Will said in a gruff imitation of an older man's voice. Sarah looked at him questioningly. "Just something the old man used to say to me when I started complaining about things not being fair."

"I get asked what my basis for comparison is," she grumbled.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing." She pulled her knees up to her chest, silent again.

After a minute, Will held out his hand to her. She looked from the outstretched hand to his face inquisitively. "Come on," he said, "For old times' sake."

A faint smile on her lips, Sarah grasped his hand in hers. _Say your right words_, she thought, for no reason that she could say. Nothing would come of it. She had made enough wishes in her time back in the Aboveground to know that they did not all have dire implications. Even if her words did hold the power she willed them to, there was not a chance in the Underground that the Goblin King would come back for her.

"I wish," they said together, "That someone would take me away from this awful place."

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She put all of her energy into that wish. She thought of New York, and London, and Paris, and all the other places she would rather be than where she was. She saw stage lights and flowers raining down on her from an adoring audience. And, rising from some unbidden part of her subconscious, she saw a circular ballroom with couples swaying back and forth to a love-struck melody.

She wanted it. She wanted all of it, and none of it at the same time, and she was not quite sure what that meant, but she did not care. Everything she was, she put into that wish, and hoped that something-_anything_-would change. Then she opened her eyes.

Nothing happened. The rain did not begin to fall up, the moon did not spontaneously change position in the sky. There was not a speck of glitter in sight. A squirrel did pause to look at them, blinking twice before scurrying on its way.

"Well," Sarah began, "That was anticlimactic. Sorry, I don't know what I expected-"

The end of her sentence was cut off by a sudden gust of wind so powerful it forced both of their eyes closed. When they opened them again, there was a man standing before them. Sarah shook her head, sure that what she was seeing was a hallucination. She waited several seconds, but when he did not disappear, she began to panic.

Had it worked? Had her wish been answered? Or, if not answered, responded to at least. _It worked_, her mind hazily processed, _It actually worked._

And now that it had happened, she did not know how to feel. Should she smile or scream? Approach or hide? There was no Toby to consider this time; she had made the wish, and the choice was entirely hers. But looking at the strange figure before her, she was not entirely sure what she had wished up.

The man was gray haired and bearded and incredibly well groomed. Not a hair or line on his tanned face looked out of place, like he carved himself from wax every morning. And he was impeccably dressed; a high necked coat of forest green trimmed in gold draped over his sturdy frame. Beneath he wore a matching waistcoat, a poet's shirt buttoned at the neck, and thick gloves spun of tough brown leather. In one hand he held a massive book, his other hand paused in the act of turning a page. He looked just as surprised to see them as they were him.

"Impossible," the man breathed, his voice lightly accented. He took a step forward, causing Sarah and Will to draw back.

Will placed a protective arm in front of Sarah. "Who are you?" he asked, his high voice doing its best to sound intimidating.

The man looked insulted by Will's display. His upper lip curled and he seemed to look down on them as he answered. "I am Arden, chief adviser to the one true king of the Goblin City."

Sarah's eyes widened at that, her heart beginning to hammer against her ribcage. King? Chief advisor? The Goblin City? These were words and thoughts she had not allowed to grace her mind in years. She had banished it all long ago. None if this was supposed to be-_allowed _to be-a part of her life. But feeling it all come back, it pained her to say, was like releasing a breath that she was unaware she was holding.

Already the euphoria was making her dizzy. Every pleasant childhood fantasy she had ever had was suddenly at the forefront of her mind once more. Like no time had passed since she was a fifteen-year-old playing in the park. And she was suddenly keenly aware of how much she had changed since then. What had happened to that girl? The one whose imagination put worlds at her fingertips, daring or begging her to pull back the curtain and see the mysteries that lay beyond.

She stepped around Will so that she could stare the man straight in the face. "You're from the Castle beyond the Goblin City then?" she asked. "You're adviser to the Goblin King?"

"Yes," he replied, straightening himself as he did. "But please, you must tell me: Are you Sarah Williams?"

He said her name with such intensity that Sarah was shocked into silence. She could only nod in response.

The man's—Arden—reaction was palpable. His mouth briefly curved into a smile filled with wonder, but quickly faded as he looked at her. He looked as though he had been given the key to the universe only to find that the lock was broken. Sarah felt suddenly faulty under his gaze.

Will broke through the awkward moment, grasping Sarah by the elbow to grab her attention. "Sarah, what is going on here? Do you know this guy? And what's all this talk about- about _goblins_?"

"Will," she gasped, seizing his arm like a lifeline. At that moment he was the only thing keeping her mind tethered in the real world. "Will, don't you see? It was all true, everything I told you about. The labyrinth, the goblins, their _king_. I wasn't making it up!"

Will took a step back from her, his hands knotting in his hair as he tried to process what she was saying. Sarah watched as his brow furrowed and he shook his head back and forth as though he could shake this reality away. It was several long seconds before he seemed to get a grip on himself and return to her side.

"Sarah," he said, squaring himself to her. "If everything you ever told me was true, then what is _he_ doing here? I mean, you said you beat the Goblin King. I thought you were done with these people."

Will's words brought Sarah crashing back to Earth. He was right. By her own lips she had proclaimed that the Underground had no power over her. She had chosen this world, the _real _world, over the world of her dreams. Mysterious chief adviser or no, her mind had been made up long ago.

Sarah approached Arden once more, this time with her feet firmly under her. "Why are you here?"

"Well, My Lady, I cannot say for certain how I came to be _here_. One would presume that it is because someone made a wish."

Sarah scowled at him. _Just as cocky as his master, it seems. _"Well that was a mistake," she snapped, "You can go back to your kingdom now."

That seemed to cause him to back track. "The Champion must forgive me if I have insulted her. Mistake though it may have been, I am not sorry to have been summoned here. Quite the opposite in fact."

"Why?" she asked, suddenly skeptical.

"Because you are next in line for the Goblin Throne."

Sarah's jaw promptly fell open. "In line for the what, now?" she stuttered, convinced she had misheard him. She, Sarah Williams, could not be in line for the Goblin Throne. Her mind would not compute such information. And so she rejected it. Simply refused to believe it.

She tried to imagine herself sitting on a throne in the Goblin Castle, her rambunctious subjects scurrying around at her feet as she juggled a few of those glass crystals. The image was so outrageous, Sarah could not help but grin.

Will and Arden both looked on in confusion as she huffed out a laugh and turned to walk back into her house. "My Lady, you mustn't go," Arden called after her. "It is my duty to escort you back to the Underground."

"You really are hilarious, you know that?" Sarah's voice boomed, clutching her sides in mock humor.

"My Lady, this is not a joking matter."

"Isn't it?" Her voice had turned grave. "You mean to tell me that your king didn't put you up to this little practical joke? He really can't stand the fact that I bested him, can he?"

She was growing truly angry now. _That pompous prat of a king had better stay out of my life from now on_. The last thing she needed was a sparkling Fae showing up on her doorstep every time she made an idle wish. _I'll let it go this time_, she thought, _but if he or any of his subjects shows up again…_

"Tell His Majesty that I have no interest in him or his throne," she snapped, making to walk into the house for good.

"But, My Lady-"

"I don't want to hear it!"

"My Lady, you must know that King Jareth has not occupied the throne since your departure."

Sarah paused midstride. Her mind was whirling once again. The Goblin King had vacated his throne? That didn't seem like him. Sure, he might have been weakened by her triumph over him. But she imagined his superhuman ego would allow him a quick recovery. What Arden was saying did not make any sense.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Arden breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have succeeded in grasping her attention. "When you rejected his offer, the power of the labyrinth was transferred to you. A king cannot rule without his power, and so he was removed from office."

"Removed from office?" Sarah yelped, guilt sweeping over her. She had never thought that her trip through the labyrinth would have such drastic repercussions. A pit was forming in the center of her stomach. Though she was not overly fond of the Goblin King, she had no desire to dismantle his entire life. Her head swirling, she was forced to take a seat on the porch steps.

Will placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Why is this the first she's hearing of it?" he asked. Sarah was somewhat shocked by the sternness in his voice.

"It is near impossible to locate an Aboveground child without a summons." Arden said this with the air of someone who had spent far too many hours fretting over this exact problem.

Sarah looked up. "Why?"

"Childhood carries with it a very special kind of magic. It protects you from the corrupting forces at play in the world. At least, from the Underground world."

"Well, that particular brand of magic will expire in five days," Sarah remarked. "You couldn't have waited until then?"

"No, by then it would be too-" Arden stopped himself, realizing what he was saying. He cursed himself internally. He had apparently lost his edge while Jareth was away.

His slip of the tongue did not go unnoticed. Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. "Too _late_?" she finished for him. "Too late for what?"

"Well, too late for the…appropriate transaction to be made."

"What transaction?" Will pressed.

Arden gave a sigh of defeat. "On the Champion's eighteenth birthday, the spell of protection around her will be broken, and the full power of the labyrinth will be hers to wield. It will also be too late for her to transfer that power back to its _rightful_ owner."

Sarah scrutinized him closely. He seemed less cordial all of a sudden; like he was somehow disgusted by his presence there. And then something clicked.

"You're not here to offer me the Goblin Throne," she accused. "You're here because you want me to restore the Goblin King's power!"

Arden scowled, angry with himself for letting things go awry. "Yes, well, I couldn't simply allow the seat of power in the Goblin Kingdom—a most noble and ancient seat, I must remind you—to pass to an impish mortal girl."

"You know, you're _really_ not doing a good job of convincing me to help you," Sarah warned.

"Oh?" he queried, evidently no longer caring if he insulted her. "Perhaps this will give you some perspective: If you do not relinquish your power before your eighteenth name day, the labyrinth will drag you back and keep you in the Underground forever."Arden stepped closer as he made his threats. Sarah was unaware of when she had risen from her seat on the steps, but she found that she was standing toe to toe with this bully of a man.

She could see that he was trying to come off as intimidating, perhaps in an effort to scare her into submission. The prospect made her want to laugh in his face. She was not a girl who cowered before anyone. Not anymore. He could toss snakes and scarves and whatever else in her face and never see her tremble.

_I'm taller than him_, she mused, realizing that she was looking down at his round nose. The thought gave her the confidence she needed to stand up to him.

"No, perhaps _this_ will give _you_ some perspective," she snarled, poking a finger into his chest. "I am Sarah Williams. I defeated the goblins, and the labyrinth, and the Goblin King when I was just fifteen. No matter what he threw at me, I turned it into a weapon for myself. You have zero comprehension of my power. And if the labyrinth plans on dragging me back, I'd love to see it try."

Sarah then turned on her heel and walked towards her front door. She gave herself a mental high five along the way. It had been some time since she'd matched wills with a supernatural being. She was pleased to find that she had not lost her touch. She was fully prepared to leave the infuriating man where he stood, until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned to unleash hell on the king's adviser for touching her, but then she saw that it was Will. She glanced from him to the hand that was placed on her shoulder, confused.

"What are you doing?" she whispered to him. "You're ruining my dramatic exit."

"Sarah," he said, his voice sobering.

She squinted at him, trying to discern his intentions. "_What_?"

"I think you should go with him."

Sarah could only stare at him. What was he talking about? Go back to the Underground? It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard. She had no desire to go back there, none at all. She was making a life for herself in the Aboveground world, and she was very comfortable.

_Are you_? a voice within her asked.

_Comfortable enough_, she thought in response. _I have friends, and family, and school. I have everything I ever wanted. _

_Almost; _the other voice echoed.

She bit her lip, focusing on the sensation to stop her rampant thoughts. "Will, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" he quirked. "Sarah, I've heard you talk about this place a hundred times. A hundred times! Don't try to tell me you don't care."

"It's not that, it's just I-"

"What? You're having such a great time up here? In all the years we've known each other, the only time I see you really light up is when you talk about this place."

Sarah frowned. He was right, and she knew it. No matter how hard she tried, a part of her heart would always belong to the Underground. That she did not bother to deny. She also could not deny that, had this offer come two years ago, she would have jumped at the chance to go back. But it was too late for that now. She had changed too much. In spite of what she had told Arden, she was no longer as sure of her own power as she had been at fifteen. Somewhere along the line, the Sarah that had fought her way to the castle beyond the Goblin City with the force of her own might had been transformed into normal, realistic, ordinary Sarah. And ordinary Sarah did not have the power to rescue a king and restore order to a kingdom. She did not have the strength even to try.

"And what if I can't do what he's asking me to do? Huh?" she shook her head. "What if I go back there and make everything even worse than it already is?"

"That's impossible," he said, smiling like he knew a secret. "You're Sarah Williams."

Sarah's breath caught at the way he said it. He had such _faith _in her. In a singled sentence, he had dispelled her fears, her insecurities. He believed in her more than she believed in herself. She flashed back to the way he had looked at her on the few dates they'd had. It was the same kind of expression. He looked at her like she was the only source of light in the room. And for some reason that made her want to run away as fast as she could.

"I can't. I can't do it," she whined, making for the house again.

"My Lady," Arden interrupted once more. He seemed to be mulling something over in his mind, deciding whether or not to speak up. Finally making up his mind, he said, "I must tell you that—should you choose not to relinquish your power—King Jareth will perish."

His words were cold and detached. They hit her with the force of ice-tipped barbs stinging her all over her body.

In that instant, Sarah felt her body lurch as it never had before. It was as if the world around her had turned so completely that she was suddenly looking at everything upside down. She could not move, or speak, or think straight. Suddenly, she was functioning on pure instinct as every synapse in her body boiled down to one, all-consuming thought: _No_.

She could not allow him to die because of her. That would truly be too much. Too much guilt and remorse for her to possibly bear. She no longer had a choice. It was frightening by how quickly her perspective could change. With one sentence her mind had been made up, absolutely.

"Okay. I'll go." Arden visibly relaxed at her words, and Will smiled at her with pride. She returned his gesture with a surprise. "But I want Will to come with me."

"Huh?" he responded, the smile sliding off his face faster than a change in the weather.

Sarah smiled at him in triumph. "If we're going to make this work, I'm going to need some help."

"Help?" he babbled. "Right, fat lot of good I'll do. You know what they used to call me in grade school? Wimpy Will."

"You're the one who wants me to go so bad," Sarah reminded him. "This is my condition: I'll go as long as you come with me."

Arden began to protest. "My Lady, this would be highly inconven-"

"It's either both of us or neither of us." Sarah laid her terms out flat. Her words did not falter, and she knew her eyes burned.

Will glared back at her for a moment before his expression softened. "I never could say no to you," he said resignedly.

Sarah smiled, grasping his hand before they both turned to face Arden. The aristocratic man did not look pleased at this development, but there was little he could do to protest. He had his king to consider after all. So, with a sweep of his thick, green cloak, he transported them back to the Underground.

* * *

**Author's Note: So here it is, the first official chapter of ****_Shattered Gowns and Broken Crowns_****. I was really pleased with the response I got on the Prologue, and so I plan to continue this as a full length fic. I have almost all of it outlined now and just need to sit down and write the damn thing. I'm going to try for updates every Wednesday. Feel free to get on me about that, it'll keep me motivated. **

**In giving credit where credit is due, _Labyrinth_ and its characters belong to Jim Henson and the Jim Henson Company. The chapter title is inspired by the song "Chasing Answers" by Mina Mauldin. **

**Thanks to everyone who has read the story so far; I hope you are enjoying it. And let me know what you think!**


	3. The Ground Remembers Her

**Disclaimer: **Labyrinth and its characters belong to Jim Henson and Co.

**Chapter Title: **from "Passing Afternoon" by Iron and Wine

* * *

Tears had formed at the corners of Sarah's eyes from being clenched so tightly. From the moment Arden had grabbed her arm, she had refused to open them. If she could just keep them closed a little longer, maybe she could pretend that this was all a dream. But a peculiar sulfurous scent had pervaded her nostrils, making it impossible for her not to look around.

They stood on the same hill on which Sarah had gotten her first look at the labyrinth. The ground beneath her feet was still pleasantly smooth with the lightest dusting of sand, and a breeze swept through her hair just as before. But that was about all that remained the same.

The Underground of her childhood was gone now, replaced with something that deeply unsettled her. The color of the sky, once a brilliant orange, had dulled to the muddled color of rust with dismal gray clouds to block the light. The scant vegetation that had grown there had been wiped out entirely, making the hill on which they stood a barren tundra. And the smell…The smell was all wrong. Before it had been a warm, dusty smell. Now it was colder, and dry in a way that made her expression sour.

But the most troubling difference of all was the labyrinth itself. Sarah had noticed its changes right away, but had ignored it in favor of using her other senses to observe. Taking a step closer, she saw the full extent of its transformation.

The walls were crumbling, making the outline of the various passages as craggy and uneven as a mountain range. In some sections the walls had collapsed entirely, leaving odd looking gaps in the grand picture of it all. Absurdly, Sarah thought of the paint by number kits she had worked on as a child. Slaved over was more accurate. They often took days to finish, and when she had gone to sleep at night, she always did so with a faint sense of dissatisfaction. The painting looked so incomplete when you could still see all of the spaces that were yet to be filled in, the transparent blue lines standing out mockingly amongst the warm acrylic paints. That was how the labyrinth looked now.

For some unfathomable reason, Sarah felt her throat clench. That the labyrinth, once so indomitable, unsolvable for all but she, could be reduced to such a state pulled at her heart in a way she had not anticipated.

_It looks like a graveyard_, she mused. And it did. Wars might have been waged within its walls for all the damage that had been done. And the destruction was still too fresh to be beautiful. Another thousand years might have given it a tragic sort of appeal, like a treasured piece of memorabilia. But for now, it was just sad.

"What happened to it?" Sarah spoke through clenched teeth. She had moved on from being upset to being angry. Who had dared to let the kingdom fall into such a state of disrepair? It was neglect in its clearest form, and she could not believe that it had gone unaddressed for so long. She rounded on Arden, intent on hearing an explanation from him.

The king's advisor was disdainful as ever. "This is what happens when a kingdom lacks an attentive ruler." Sarah scowled at his tone. It was clearly intended to be a jab at her, but she would have none of it. This was not her fault, not her world. And in spite of it not being her responsibility, she had still agreed to help restore order. As far as she was concerned, Arden could take his resentment and shove it up his ass.

"What's that?" Will finally spoke up. His eyes were even wider than Sarah's as he struggled to take in his surroundings. He could tell that the world that they had entered was ancient in a way that was incomprehensible to man. And for all the moving around Will had done as a child in a military family, he had never experienced anything more ancient than the Washington Monument.

Sarah followed his gaze to the uncertain outline at the center of the labyrinth. "_That_ is the Castle beyond the Goblin City. Or at least, what's presumably left of it," she answered, looking pointedly at Arden.

"Actually," he responded to her implicit challenge, "The castle has remained in markedly good shape. And now that you mention it, I suggest we start to make our way there."

"Why?" Sarah asked.

Arden sighed, exasperated that this girl who knew so little of his world could hold so much power. "You may find that the Goblin Kingdom has become a rather more treacherous place since your last stint here," he bit out. "The castle is the only place that is somewhat safe. And I am eager that we should make it there before dark."

Sarah blinked in consternation. "You mean you can't just teleport us there?"

"Regrettably, no. That sort of power is reserved for only the most elite Fae."

"And the Goblin King can't just come pick us up because…?" Arden flinched noticeably at that. Sarah raised a pointed eye brow at him. "There's something you're not telling us, isn't there?"

His teeth clenched in response. "I suppose it's a moot point now anyway," Arden said, mostly to himself. Then, turning back to them, he said, "Even if the Goblin King was here, he would not have to necessary power to transfer all of us back to the castle. You have yourself to thank for that."

Sarah's jaw dropped. "What do you mean 'even if he was here'? You mean he's not even in the damn kingdom?!"

"Did you think he would be allowed to remain in the castle after such a fall from grace?"

Sarah was seething, her hands clenching and unclenching in tight fists. This was not what she had agreed to. If the Goblin King wanted his power back, fine. She was more than happy to give it to him. But she would not be trekking across the Underground to do it. She sat down in the dirt, refusing to move.

"What are you doing?" Arden snapped, clearly put out by her childishness.

"I'm waiting," she announced. When he gave a confused look in response, she explained, "I agreed to do you a favor and give your poor monarch back his power. Nowhere in there was it stipulated that I had to go on some Tolkien-esque quest to do it. So, I'm waiting. Either you can bring him here, or you can forget about ever seeing that glittery jerk on the throne again."

Arden was gritting his teeth again, like what he was going to say next would cause him physical pain. "I am sure that something can be…_arranged_. If the Lady would simply acquiesce to follow along to the castle."

His words barely registered in Sarah's mind. She would have been perfectly content to ignore him, had not, at that precise moment, a frightening growl emitted from a rocky cavern off to their left. It caused her to jump slightly, wondering what kind of creature could have made that sound.

Arden had apparently heard it too, as he was now scanning the hillside for signs of impending threat. "The sun will be setting soon. I suggest you follow me." With that he took off down the hillside, not bothering to see if anyone followed.

"Asshole," Sarah muttered to herself. She did not hear Will come up behind her.

"Should we be doing this?" he asked her. Sarah jumped again, surprised by his sudden proximity, but Will did not seem to notice. He was looking out at the vast expanse of stone and slate that was the labyrinth.

"You're the one who insisted I return," she grumbled. She did bear some sympathy for him, knowing how intimidating the labyrinth could look at a distance. But it was his own fault that they were there in the first place. He would have to learn to deal with it.

Hearing another low snarl from an unknown point, Sarah stood and motioned that they follow after Arden.

_What did he mean when he said the labyrinth is a more dangerous place_? Sarah wondered. Other than its obviously unruly state, it did not look any more perilous than it had the last time. The basic structure was the same, and she imagined that the life inhabiting it was unchanged. And none of the labyrinth's creatures were particularly vicious. Even on her first trip, when she was stumbling through blind, they had never attempted to hurt her just for the sake of it. Frighten and confuse her, sure, but never harm. _And why was that? _

To Sarah's dismay, an image of the Goblin King came to mind. _Stop it_, she scolded herself. He was the last thing she needed on her mind right now. She did not want to think about him, or his crystals, or his infuriating smirk for as long as was physically possible. And when she finally had to see him…Well, she would cross that bridge when they came to it. With any lucky she could wrap up these unwanted powers, pass them back to him, and be on her way.

_Let's just hope he feels the same way_. Sarah thought she might get lucky in this regard. It was unlikely that-after outright rejecting him, unknowingly stealing his power, and inadvertently ending his reign as king-he would want to see her again for an extended period of time, but you never knew. Sarah found that it was better not to dwell on how unpredictable he could be.

Aden's back became the focus of her vision. She noticed that he did not follow any of the labyrinth's paths for long. He seemed to think it faster to bypass certain areas by trudging over the broken sections, in spite of the fact that much of the rubble was less than stable. Several times Sarah was forced to slide or roll down the slopes to avoid spraining an ankle. After a while, a thin layer of dust settled on her clothing from traipsing through debris for so long.

_The Goblin King had better reimburse me for all the clothing that's been ruined running his stupid labyrinth_. The strict attention of bleach and detergent had done little to restore what was once her favorite poet's shirt, and now it looked like her well-worn cable knit sweater was apt to follow. She prayed that they reached their destination before she was clad in more dirt than clothing.

The last rays of sunlight still grasped the horizon as they finally made it to the gates of the Goblin City. There was no guard posted there this time, not even a sleeping one, but Sarah still approached quietly. There was something about seeing this place, basked in fading twilight, that made her hesitate. The silence around them was complete, the city more dead than asleep, but still it felt wrong to waltz in without a fuss.

"I think we've landed in Munchkinland, Toto," Will joked, crouching down to peer at one of the doors of a goblin house.

"Will get away from there," she whined, still distinctly unsettled by the unnatural calm. She relaxed slightly when he was back at her side. "And it's Munchkin Country. They only call it Munchkinland in the movie."

They continued to move through the silent city, Arden picking up pace with every block. If he thought to outrun the encroaching nighttime, he was doing a poor job. The sky darkened with every step they took, the color melting from faded rust into deep maroon. Sarah cringed; it looked like the stars were bleeding.

Finally, she saw the stairs that lead up to the castle and breathed a sigh of relief. She was thankful to be free of the city. It was too bizarre, too unknowable by night. She would have to return in the morning to assure herself that there was nothing to be afraid of. But for now, the aforementioned safety of the Goblin Castle was just what she needed.

Arden pushed through the impassive gates of the castle with considerably more ease than Sarah had those years ago, but she was careful not to show it. It would not do to let him see that he had impressed her even in the slightest. His smirk as he beckoned them in told her she had not done as good a job as she had thought.

Entering the hall of the castle did not ease Sarah's tension as she had hoped it would. In fact, in some ways it was doubled.

A single torch mounted on the wall was the only source of light in the pitch black hallway. The shallow tarn of light that it cast did little to distinguish the features of the castle and much to highlight every possible nook and cranny.

She could see that this part of the castle had also fallen victim to the absence of its king. Someone had made the barest of efforts to keep it clean, having swept the various chicken bones and feathers off to the side. Vines crept up from the cracks in the floor, their thin fingers creeping up the walls beseechingly. A botany based rendition of Rodin's _The Gates of Hell_, which Sarah had adored studying in her art history class. She was sad to say that the full impact of it had been lost until now.

Will stood beside her, though neither of them was keen to move. They just stood there, unable or unwilling to take another step forward.

Arden, unaffected, pushed past them, grabbing the torch from its holder and brandishing it before them. He wrinkled his brow at the reluctance of his guests, "Not afraid of the dark, are we, children?" That was enough to spur Sarah forward. She exhaled, realizing that she had been holding her breath, and followed Arden down the hall.

_You're fine_, she assured herself. _There's nothing here that can hurt you_. The thought lost some of its potency as Sarah became aware of a low clinking sound far above her head. She craned her neck, but the darkness was as impenetrable as a blindfold. As they moved farther down the hall, the sound increased in frequency. Many things were swaying together from the sway of an impossible breeze, and the whole time all Sarah could think was: _There's something hanging from the ceiling_. She forced herself not to think too much about what it could be.

And then the sound wasn't just above her anymore, it was behind her. And it wasn't a clinking sound but a scurrying, fast and angry and _close_.

"What is that!" she yelped, unable to help herself. She grabbed Will by the arm, fierce fingers digging into his bicep.

"What do you mean?" Will whirled at her reaction. He scanned behind them, looking for the source of Sarah's fright, but found nothing.

"There's something following us." She spoke more towards Arden now, in the hopes of prompting him to bring the light around.

The stiff advisor did not budge. "There's nothing following you but the shadows. Now come along; there will be more than enough light in the throne room."

"It's not nothing, there's something—There!" she shrieked again, pointing out into the darkness.

Scuttling steps were steadily approaching them. Arden and Will could evidently hear it too, as they had both stopped walking. The sound came in an erratic pattern; a short burst of steps, and then silence. Another faint shuffling, then nothing. But Sarah could feel it drawing closer. The air chilled a few degrees making the hair on her arms press against the sleeves of her sweater.

Sarah's eyes rapidly scanned the darkness before her, desperate to see what lurked there. Her heart crashed painfully against her ribs, and her breath came fast and shallow. She was read to run, ready to sprint in any direction if the need arose.

_Where is it_? She wondered. She could hear how close it was, smell a faintly pungent odor, but she could not see anything. _It must be right in front of me. How can I not see it_?

The sound was so close now, Sarah was on the point of turning and running headlong down the passage from the tension alone. That's when Arden's unamused drawl broke through. "Heavens help us…"

Sarah followed his gaze, realizing why she had been unable to see their encroaching visitor. She had been looking too high. Down at her feet, pecking at invisible grains of food, was a greasy black chicken.

"Oh the terror!" Will said, letting out a hardy laugh. He stopped only when Sarah turned to glare at him. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Forgive me, O' Exalted One. I did not mean to offend Princess Sarah, slayer of fierce Goblin Kings and even fiercer chickens."

"Hah-hah, very funny," she allowed, "You should both be grateful I noticed something was following us at all. If there really was something dangerous, you two would be too obtuse to recognize it."

The tension in her body was slowly fading, making her limbs feel loose and jelly-like. She let out a sigh of relief, allowing herself to relax once more. That was when the attack came.

A thin screech came from overhead, and Sarah barely had time to respond with a scream of her own before the goblin dropped onto her head, clawing at her neck and hair. Shrieking like all of hell's demons had made their home in her vocal cords, she began batting at the creature that assaulted her. She managed to knock it off of her, but the little beast scurried back, this time latching onto her ankle with its teeth.

Sarah looked for help from her comrades, but saw that they too were fighting off the tenacious creatures. Arden was swatting at his feet with the book he was holding, just barely warding off two snarling goblins. Will was in much worse shape, with one biting into his shoulder while another latched onto his knee. His eyes showed panic, and his attempts to free himself were wholly ineffective.

Her attention snapped back to the strangled hissing of the goblin at her feet as its teeth broke through the leg of her pants to sink into her flesh. Sarah cried out, the jarring pain knocking her off balance. She fell backwards, scraping her palms against the unforgiving ground. But that was the least of her worries, as the fiendish ankle-biter began crawling up her body, its sharp teeth bared and ready.

Seeing those teeth and imagining the damage they could do forced Sarah to slow her mind down, to think rationally. What could she do to keep the fangs out of her throat? She could try to fight it off again, though that was just as likely to prolong her suffering. She needed to do something quick and decisive, something that would buy her more time to think this through.

_What would the Goblin King do_? The thought crawled annoyingly through her subconscious, and Sarah scolded herself for it. This was not going to help them fend off the goblins. He was their king, they were sworn to obey him. If he wanted an attack to stop all he had to do was say so. She did not have that luxury.

Or did she? Her brain began firing in rapid succession. One thing she had learned during her previous trip through the labyrinth was that words had power. And if her words were somehow connected to her power, then that meant...

"_I wish the goblins would stop attacking us_!" she yelled, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut. She was not completely prepared for the absence of pressure on her chest, or for the sudden silence. She opened her eyes one at a time, uncertain of what she would find. The five goblins stood against the wall, their fierce jaws working tirelessly. Blinking away her shock, Sarah paused a moment to observe them.

They were each standing upright, though they were of the smaller variety of goblins, the tallest only barely reaching her knee. But what they lacked in height, they made up for with viciousness. Each goblin was equipped with thin, hooked claws and sharp teeth. It was no wonder they had been able to do such damage, Sarah thought as she rubbed at the scratches that ran down her throat.

She also noticed that, despite their fixed position against the wall, they all seemed to be standing there against their will. Every few seconds, one would twitch or lash out with its teeth, but they never moved so much as an inch away from the wall. It was as if they were held there by some magical binding spell…

_No_, Sarah thought, glancing down at her bruised hands. _It can't be_.

"What's going on here?" she questioned, looking pointedly at Arden. He was still in the process of straightening his attire, as he paused every few seconds to glare at the goblins.

"It would appear," he said finally, "That the labyrinth has responded to your request. For which I am…_thankful_. I was not prepared for such an attack. These creatures are meant to be locked in the dungeon at night."

"What? Why?"

"Gee, maybe it has something to do with the fact that they use people trying to walk through the castle as chew toys," Will grumbled off to the side.

"Yes, well I wouldn't have put it quite so colorfully," Arden said, "But that is the general reasoning."

"But what's happened to them? They were never this aggressive before," she complained, looking again into the hard, mean eyes of the goblins before them. They were so unhappy, so unnecessarily cruel. She remembered that they could be nasty little tricksters, but underneath all that she had seen that they were really just simple-minded creatures in search of a little mischief. But now she saw only anger.

Why had everything changed so completely? This was not the Underground she had come to love and appreciate. This new Underground had been overtaken by a darkness and a misery so complete that it was not even a shadow of its former self.

Tears were forming, and she looked down so that Will and Arden would not see. The last thing she needed was them thinking she couldn't handle herself. Her gaze fell on her left leg, a bright corona of teeth parks encircling her calf. A thin stream of blood trickled down her ankle, and she reached down to rub away the dull throb of pain. When she pulled her hand away, the mark had been healed.

_It can't be_, she thought again. But it was. She had healed herself. Bringing her hands up to eye level, she inspected her palms as though she could see the magic running through her veins. Though there was nothing there to see, it did give her an idea. She bent down and reached towards the nearest goblin, moving so as to brush her hand over its eyes.

"Whoa, Sarah, what are you doing?" Will shouted, lunging forward to pull her arm out of harm's way. But he stopped when he saw what was happening.

A dim glow was emanating from the ground beneath them, snaking down the hall from some indeterminate point. The light branched off in several directions, twisting and coiling like a complicated roots system. But the target was clear: the light was strongest around Sarah.

As she completed her movement, the light flared up, a few sparks popping directly in front of the goblin's eyes. Both Will and Sarah watched as the creature shook its fuzzy head, its beady black pupils restricting to reveal wide brown eyes that were swiveling in confusion.

"What- What happened?" it asked in its high, gruff voice. "Who are you?"

Sarah beamed. "I'm Sarah, I'm here to help you."

"Sarah, what's going on here?" Will asked, backing up a few steps.

"It would appear," Arden piped up, "That the labyrinth has recognized the return of its Champion." Will looked from him back to where Sarah was kneeling, his head reeling a bit, unable to fully piece it all together. He just watched her as she moved with a certain comfort, an ease.

Sarah rose up, moving down the line of goblins and repeating the same gesture on all of them. By the time she was finished, they were all looking up at her with uniform awe in their wide eyes. They jumped around at her feet, clapping and babbling on excitedly. She smiled down at each of them, grasping their hands when they offered them. They vied constantly for her attention, offering to sing, or dance, or fetch her Goblin Ale. And she encouraged their affections, twirling them about as they danced and smiling at their tone deaf serenades.

"They love her," Will observed, speaking to Arden as they watched from the side.

"It would appear so," the advisor replied with only slight distaste. "Your friend seems quite at home here."

"She does," he stiffly replied. Will tried not to make a show of swallowing the lump rising from his stomach. "She certainly does."

They stopped speaking as Sarah approached, each of her hands clasped by one of the goblins. "I guess we should probably get going," she suggested, "It's getting pretty late."

"As the Lady wishes." Arden led them down the remainder of the hall until they finally emerged in the throne room. That, at least, had remained in its usual state of ordered chaos. Various rags and garments littered the floor, a small, murky puddle of Goblin Ale collected in one corner. The only thing it lacked was a goblin babe clad in red and white stripes.

For Sarah, seeing the throne room was haunting. She could see the ghosts of her friends standing right where they were now, promising her that they would be there if she called. And those stairs leading off to the left. She remembered how confident she'd felt mounting those steps, how ready she had been to face the Goblin King. She could laugh now at how unprepared she was in reality. The Escher Room had turned all her plans on their heads—literally. And the Goblin King…No, she was certainly not prepared for what he had proposed.

"Ouch, Lady," one of the goblins holding her hand complained. Unbeknownst to her, she had tightened her fist, crushing the little hand within.

"Sorry," she said, letting him go. She wandered towards the staircase, peering around the curve of the hall as though it would allow her to look straight into the Escher Room, straight back into the past.

"If you both are ready to retire for the night, I can lead you to your chambers." Arden pushed past her and mounted the stairs, obviously expecting them to follow. Sarah fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him while his back was turned. She had to keep reminding herself that she really wasn't fifteen anymore.

Arden took them around the winding staircase which, Sarah found, did not lead only to the Escher Room. They diverted down a second hallway that she had failed to notice on her first trip. To her dismay it was yet another hall filled with stairs.

_At least there's only one field of gravity this time_, she thought as they descended down the first flight. Sarah quickly realized that there was a pattern to every set of stairs. They would descend for seven steps, plateau, then rise eleven steps, and plateau again. At the peak of each set there was a door to the left, though it was several flights before Arden finally stopped at one.

"Here we are," he said as he inserted a key into the lock and pushed the door open. Sarah was huffing and puffing a bit by this time, her calves burning from the exertion of so many stairs. She bit out a thank you and stepped into the room, quite through dealing with Arden's attitude. She was halfway to the awaiting bed when she remembered Will. Darting back to the door, she poked her head out, catching them before they had even made it halfway down the next flight.

"Will, you'll be alright?" she called to him. He had remained so calm over the last few hours that she almost forgot that this was all brand new to him.

"I'll be fine. I'll be just down the hall from you," he assured her.

"Okay," she smiled, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sarah." Once again, he gave her a look that froze her in place. This time it was like he was looking up at some glorious angel that was slowly flying away from him. It made Sarah's stomach churn and heart pound all at once. She was glad when the door was shut between them.

Sarah collapsed onto the bed, not bothering even to shed her clothes. She just curled up and tried to let sleep find her. But the day had been exhaustive, and the more her body relaxed, the more her mind seemed intent on replaying everything that had happened.

She was back in the Underground. That was what she thought of the most. Strangely, it was the hardest part for her to process. Even amidst travelling back through the labyrinth and being attacked by rogue goblins, the simple fact that she had returned at all was the most unbelievable. Of course, discovering she had control of the Goblin King's powers and using said powers were a close second.

That was when she realized the truly insurmountable nature of her task. She had just four days to locate the Goblin King, return his powers, and somehow convince him that he should not be absolutely furious with her and to send her home. Right, that should be easy enough.

"Oh, what am I going to do?" she cried, twisting and turning on the bed.

So many questions rushed through her head. Had she made the right choice in returning? Had she been wrong to drag Will into this? And where was the Goblin King, and how was she supposed to rescue him?

Questions, questions. So many questions unspooled from her mind that she thought they might begin to leak out of her ears. And even then she would not find answers to them. Even with all the Goblin King's power at her fingertips, she still felt as useless as a box of matches in a blizzard. So she lay there in the dark, letting her thoughts exhaust her to the point where sleep finally became possible. But just before she nodded off, a final, dark thought formed at the edges of her subconscious.

If she had defeated the Goblin King by proclaiming that he had no power over her, how then was she supposed to give that power back?

* * *

**A/N: Well, things are certainly moving along for Sarah and friends. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as I really enjoyed writing it (especially using all three forms of "to" in a single sentence.) And I hope that you continue to follow along as the story builds. Just to keep everyone up to speed, I have finished the outline for this story and have it planned at 20 chapters plus an epilogue. Which means we're in for a long haul. That being said, I'm really excited for what's to come in this fic, and I think you will be too! **

**And although you'll hear this in basically every author's note I write, I am so grateful to everyone that has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. It really does make my day to see people respond to my writing. **

**Also, I wanted to wish everyone that celebrates it a very Merry Christmas. I hope your next few days are merry and bright. And to everyone else, have an awesome December 24th. **


	4. Twisting and Turning

**Disclaimer:** Labyrinth and its characters belong to Jim Henson and co.

**Chapter Title:** from "Rubik's Cube" by Athlete

* * *

The light from the single open window crept up Sarah's sleeping figure at a steady pace, like a wave building to high tide. When at last it touched her face, her tired green eyes lifted, blinking a few times to alert the rest of her body that she was, in fact, awake. It took no time at all for her to remember where she was and what she was meant to be doing there. And when she did she promptly buried her head beneath a pile of pillows, biting into one to keep herself from screaming.

When she had successfully vented her frustration, she sat upright in bed, schooling her breathing until she was completely calm. And with her relaxation came reasoned thought. It was Tuesday. Her birthday was Friday, giving her a solid three days to accomplish everything on her list. If she tried hard enough, she could trick herself into believing that this was an acceptable amount of time. She just had to make sure not to think about it for too long.

In keeping with this, she untangled herself from the sheets—a difficult task as she had slept with her jeans and shoes still on—and looked about the room.

It was a beautiful set up, really. More open and bright than she would have imagined was possible for the Goblin Castle. The bed she slept in was a massive Renaissance-type affair with four posters of dark oak inlaid with some of the most intricate design work Sarah had ever seen up close. The dark color scheme was offset by surrounding drapery, which matched the Prussian blue of the sheets and the light tan of the walls. Sarah traced the uneven lining of stone all the way over to the domed window, where she peaked out at the world.

Three years ago, the view from that window would have been spectacular. The labyrinth stretched out in front of her for miles, the canals and passageways a giant snake always twisting and curling. But it was a molting snake, deep in the process of shedding its skin. Pieces of it were getting left behind, destroyed, and not for the better. The labyrinth needed fixing, and in more drastic ways than she knew how to remedy. Loathe as she was to admit it, the Goblin Kingdom needed its king.

_And I'm going to return him to it_, she thought as she collapsed into the red suede chair beside the window. She convinced herself that it was for the sake of the labyrinth that she made this promise, but a part of her knew that it went deeper than that. It was not just for the labyrinth, but for her friends. For Hoggle, and Ludo, and Sir Didymus. For all of the goblins whose carefree hearts had been hardened during her time away. And, yes, for the Goblin King too, she admitted.

Of the times she had thought about him over the years, it was always in the context of royalty. She imagined his lithe frame draped over the throne, or pressing a royal seal into hot wax, or dancing the night away in a stream of parties as grand and twinkling as the Milky Way. For whatever reason, she needed to imagine him that way. Anything else made her heart clench in discomfort.

She was largely unaware of the way her hand was creeping across the table in front of her, her fingers stretching towards smooth, polished glass of their own accord. When they finally made contact, she snapped back to attention, realizing what she was now holding.

The crystal was perfectly round, and it sat in her palm proudly, like a living thing that demanded her notice. Sarah balanced it on her fingertips, holding it at eye level and looking within its depths. _It'll show you your dreams_, she could still hear him say. But the more she stared it down, the more bottomless it grew until she eventually gave up. She laughed at herself; this silly orb could not show her her dreams. It was probably just some parlor trick. It did get her wondering though…

She balanced the crystal in her palm, gently rocking it back and forth. _How does he do this_? She wondered while she tried to get enough momentum to juggle it onto the back of her hand. She had just gotten it up to speed when there was a knock on the door. Startled, Sarah spun around, the crystal slipping from her grasp and shattering against the floor.

"Shit," she cursed. She was scrambling now, trying to sweep the broken shards under the table with her foot. The knock came again, firmer this time. "Double shit."

The door swung open and crashed against the opposite wall, making Sarah yelp out: "It wasn't me!" She had feared it would be Arden, but quickly saw that that was not the case. Standing in the doorway was a plump, gray-faced goblin with wild hair and a fixated scowl.

"You clumsy dolt, what've you done?" the goblin asked. She spoke with the scolding tone of a teacher addressing a child who permanently sat in the back of the classroom.

Sarah blinked in shock. Perhaps this goblin woman was worse than Arden. "I'm sorry," she tried, "I didn't mean to break anything. It just sort of—err—happened."

"Now I'll have to clean up every last bit," the goblin muttered angrily to herself. "Didn't even ask for this job. Taking care of a _human. _Humph."

"Excuse me," Sarah interjected, "But you're being very rude. I'd be happy to clean up after myself, and I certainly don't need any taking care of."

"Selfish, prissy, little brat…"

Sarah's mouth dropped open, incredulous. "You can't talk to me like that! I mean, I'm a…and you're a…" she struggled to articulate.

"And now who's being rude?" she snapped back, wagging a pudgy finger.

"I'm a _guest_," Sarah finally decided on. She crossed her arms and slumped down in her chair, more than content to ignore the wretched little creature. She glared out of the corner of her eye, watching her begin to sweep up the mess that had been made. That was when she noticed something peculiar. "Look at me," she requested, leaning forward in the chair.

The goblin woman turned, her mouth opening to unleash a stream of insults and complaints, but Sarah heard none of it. She was focusing on something else. Settled over the goblin's skin, clothing, and hair was a thin layer of frost. It twinkled faintly in the morning light, just as dew collecting on grass might. And it sealed over her eyes as well, making them distant and cloudy. Just like the goblins from the night before.

"What're you doing?" the goblin griped as Sarah reached out a hand towards her. Again she gently smoothed her palm over the goblin's eyes. And, just as before, there came a faint glow from the floor. This time it shone through the cracks in the tile, gathering at her feet, and shooting upwards to her hand. Once more, a flash of sparks popped in front of the goblin woman, only this time it sent a brief shock through Sarah.

"Ouch!" she complained, gingerly rubbing her hand. She brought her middle finger to her mouth, sucking the tip where the shock had exited. _Why did that happen_? She wondered. _It didn't hurt last time. _

"You alright, dearie?" the goblin woman inquired.

"Yes, I'm-" but Sarah stopped before she could finish her sentence. "Hang on, did you just call me 'dearie?'"

"Yes, I s'pose I did. Is there something wrong with that, M'Lady?" The goblin standing before Sarah now was not the same as the one who had walked through the door. She was transformed. The dusting of frost had left her, and she stood straighter. When she wasn't hunched and frowning, she had a kindly face, round and full of warmth. Tender eyes the color of melted chocolate bars blinked up at Sarah waiting for her answer.

"No, it's just that a minute ago…Well you were acting…" she babbled in response, struggling to explain what was still a new and bizarre phenomenon for her. She took a breath, and made herself continue. "I think you were under some sort of…spell. And I think I undid it."

"A spell? Oh, don't be silly, dearie, who'd put me under a-" the goblin paused a moment, realization pooling in her eyes. "_Why that little brat!_"

Sarah sat back in her chair, shocked by the sudden vehemence in her visitor's voice. For a moment she was afraid that she had failed to remove the spell completely, but eventually it became apparent that this particular goblin was just prone to fits of anger. She'd begun to bat rather than sweep at the shards of crystal, all the while muttering a string of reprimands.

"Um, excuse me?" Sarah tried to interrupt.

"Ungrateful child…to think she put a curse on me…practically raised the girl…"

"Excuse me, but who-"

"…pulled glitter out of her hair for three days straight, and this's the thanks I get?"

"Hey!" Sarah slammed a hand on the table, seeing that demanding attention was the only way to proceed. The goblin looked up at her like she could not fathom what had prompted the outburst. Sarah realigned her approach once more. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Sarah."

The round-faced goblin seemed to realize that she had made a very poor showing. She shook her head at herself before addressing Sarah. "Pardon me, m'Lady. I'm Mable, the head housekeeper here in the castle."

"Mable, good." Sarah offered her hand, which her new acquaintance grasped confusedly. "Now, would you mind telling me who you are talking about?"

Mable hesitated, her globe-like eyes refusing to meet Sarah's. "I was speaking of the Queen of Beasts," she admitted, "And my words were plenty unkind. I beg you forgiveness, m'Lady."

"You don't need my forgiveness," she assured her, "And please, call me Sarah."

"Oh, no, I mustn't do that, m'Lady. You're far too important a guest."

"I'm not, believe me." Sarah hung her head. She most certainly did not feel like an important guest. She felt overwhelmed. Nothing like her fifteen-year-old self would have felt.

_Stop thinking like that_, she scolded herself. _You can't keep comparing yourself to her. _

"Well of course you're an important guest. Why else would you be staying in the king's chambers?"

"I really don't think- Wait what?" Sarah was frozen, her heart pumping cold blood through her veins. "Whose room is this?"

"I've just told you. These rooms belong to the ruler of the labyrinth."

Every possible shade of mortification passed over Sarah's face. This could not be happening. _Why_ was this happening? She groaned out her building embarrassment. She was sitting in one of the Goblin King's chairs, at his table, in his room. That this was his view that she had admired, his bed that she had slept in- _His bed!_

"No, no, no, no, no." Her hands fisted in her hair, the tiny pinpricks of pain the only thing keeping her from having a complete meltdown. She was living in the Goblin King's bedroom. He would—with any luck—be back here in four days' time, and he would know that she had been here. She did not know if he would be able to smell her or just sense her, but she did not have a doubt in her mind that he would _know_. He would know and either be so furious that he locked her in an oubliette for the rest of her days, or so smug that she would have to move to some third dimension in order to hide her shame.

_Okay, Sarah, this isn't that bad_, she forced herself to think. _All you have to do is come up with a logical means of disguising that you were ever here. Right. Good. _

"We need to burn everything," she blurted out. She leapt up, jumpstarting the process of searching every drawer for a box of matches.

"Begging your pardon, m'Lady?" Mable asked. The goblin woman had placed a worried hand over her heart as she looked at Sarah with a gaze of concern.

"I'm setting it all on fire, that's the only way." At Mable's aghast look, she amended the statement: "Maybe not everything, but at least the bed sheets." _Definitely the sheets_.

"Oh dear…Master Arden isn't going to be pleased to hear this."

"Arden can-" Sarah stopped. _Arden_. He was the one who had brought her here, had set her up in this room like it was the most natural thing in the world. He had done it knowingly, and intentionally, and probably as a joke. "I'm gonna kill him."

"What-"

"I don't care if he knows how to use magic better than me, I will find a way to imprison him in the Bog of Eternal Stench for the next decade."

"Please, m'Lady Sarah, don't do that," Mable entreated, "I'm sure Master Arden meant no harm."

"No harm? No _harm_?" she barked in response. "How can you even say that? He set me up in the Goblin King's room because he knew it would embarrass me!"

"I doubt that, dearie."

"Of course that's why! He lives to be clever, and this is the ultimate joke on me." Sarah folded her arms and collapsed back in her chair, looking every bit the petulant child. She would find a way to get back at him for this. If it took all the power in the Underground, she would find a way.

"Perhaps," Mable interrupted her thoughts, "He is just preparing for a regime change."

Sarah looked to the goblin, preparing to make a smart retort, when she saw what the small woman was holding. It was a beautiful dress of crushed velvet, its textured hues alternating between silver and sky blue. Mable offered it to her, placing one of the sleeves against her shoulder so that she could see how the color stood out against her dark hair. It made a pretty combination, Sarah had to admit.

"What is this for?" she asked. She was stroking the soft fabric without realizing it.

"Master Arden instructed that you should wear this. He said it'd be proper attire for a Lady such as yourself."

"Oh," Sarah muttered, one part of her flattered and another part disheartened. On the one hand, it was a lovely dress, and Sarah knew it would make her look stunning. But she could not help but read Arden's gift as another sort of insult. He had brought her to the king's chambers, sent her the head of household staff to assist her, and now sought to dress her as a lady of high standing. She knew he was not doing all of this as a kindness. He had gone to such lengths because he was acknowledging her as the future ruler of the Goblin Kingdom.

_And I thought I had little faith in myself; Arden has even less_, she thought with chagrin. A wave of nausea churned her stomach. Up until then, she had attributed her pessimism to her own insecurities. She was no longer as brave or hopeful as she had once been, and she no longer believed in herself. But now, knowing that Arden didn't believe in her either made the possibility of her failure feel very real.

She might not be able to rescue the Goblin King in time. Her birthday could come and go without her even finding an adequate place to start searching. He could die, and she would not be allowed to go home again. She would be left to wallow with a guilty conscious and a throne she did not want. Forever.

_Forever…feels like a very long time_.

"Excuse me, m'Lady, but you really should try the dress on. I wasn't sure of the size," Mable gently intruded.

"Of course," Sarah sniffled, unaware that her nose had begun to run. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, dearie. Dress making's been a hobby of mine for a long time." She said it with such pride that Sarah had the sudden urge to push away all of her self-doubt, and hug the little woman and gush anew at how fine a garment it was. She settled for placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, I hope it looks as good on me as it does on the hangar."

Mable beamed up at her, flashing a toothless grin. "Don't you worry about that, now. We'll just make sure it fits in the shoulder, and you'll be pretty as a picture."

Sarah went into the bathroom—cringing all the while because this was where the Goblin King bathed, and dressed, and brushed his teeth—and pulled the dress on. She wasted no time getting back to Mable, who was waiting for her in front of a full length mirror, needle and thread in hand. Sarah stood stock still as the goblin woman set about adjusting the hem.

"So tell me more about this Queen of Beasts," Sarah prompted, distracting herself from the ache of stillness. "You seemed quite upset with her."

"Well why shouldn't I be? She placed a hex on me, didn't she now?" Mable's sewing become a frantic, frenzied affair, and Sarah feared getting pricked. "Took care of the girl from the time she was the size of a goblin babe without so much as a word of thanks, and now I get a hex."

"You took care of her when she was young?" Sarah wanted nothing more than to distract the woman from her bitterness and avoid getting the skirt stitched to her calf.

"Took care of, _humph_. I all but _raised_ her. And her brother too. That's right: old Mable spent many nights in this room rocking a squealing babe to sleep."

"In this room?" Sarah spun around so fast she knocked over the spool of thread and succeeded in getting pricked in the leg. "Mable…does the Goblin King have children?"

It was a possibility Sarah had never encountered in her imaginings, though it was perfectly possible. He was some sort of ageless, magical being, after all. It was just strange to imagine him with children of his own. Kidnapped babies she could see, but little Goblin Princes and Princesses? It didn't seem quite right to her.

It struck her, then, how little she knew about him. He had figured so often in her dreams and nightmares that it had never occurred to her that he was a real person, living a life that she knew nothing about. He could have a whole family living here in this very castle; children down the hall, a wife pining away in a tower for her lost husband. The thought made Sarah clench her jaw.

Before she could get too worked up, though, Mable laughed. "The Goblin King? Children? Have you met him, dearie? No, that boy needs another century's maturity before he's ready for children."

Sarah pretended to inspect the lining of her sleeves to hide her relief. "Then who were you talking about?"

"I know this may be hard to believe, dearie," she said with a grin, "But King Jareth was a child himself once."

Sarah whirled again, this time nearly tripping on the extra length of the skirt. "You took care of _him_ as a baby?"

"M'Lady, you must keep still!" Mable looked at her disapprovingly, refusing to revoke her glare until Sarah had calmed herself. "Happy little thing he was," she explained. "Always crawling about, looking for toys. Nothing like that sister of his. She only stopped screaming when it was time to eat. Her father said it meant she was strong. But _he_ never had to stay up with her all through the night."

"_He has a_-" Sarah was stopped mid-turn by a stern look from Mable. "Sorry." She released the the tension in her face. "He has a sister?"

"Queen Delicia of the Kingdom of Beasts," the goblin woman confirmed.

"Does she take children away too?" Sarah tried to ask casually, but the words still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Yes, I suppose she does now."

"Now? Why only now?"

"Haven't you heard the rumors, dearie? Everyone in the castle's saying she's the one that took the Goblin King." Sarah did not move, did not even flinch. It took a moment for the comprehension to click. When at last it did, her reaction was a sight to behold.

"He's with his _sister_?! And Arden _knew_?!" she seethed, wrenching the skirt from Mable's grip so she could pace the room. This was unbelieveable. Arden knew where his king was this whole time, and had not only failed to rescue him himself, but also failed to tip her off. Here she was losing her mind over how to go about finding the Goblin King when he was probably locked up in a castle the next kingdom over.

Mable watched the girl with a curious expression as she circled the room. The goblin woman had had little experience with humans, but the ones that she had encountered had seemed timid and rather dull. But this girl was nothing like her predecessors. There was a fieriness about her, one that struggled to be contained. It reminded her very much of someone else, but she thought the better of pointing it out.

It was several minutes before Sarah's annoyance waned to a manageable level. _Okay_, she reasoned with herself, _there's nothing you can do to change what's already happened. Just use the information you have now to move forward. _

She knelt down to the goblin's level so that they were eye to eye. "Mable, I need you to tell me everything you know about the Queen of Beasts."

Mable blinked at the girl. No, she was certainly not like the other humans. She was much more single-minded, more determined to reach her goals than anyone the goblin woman had met in all her years.

"There's a book just there on the shelf," Mable pointed out. "It'll tell you everything you need to know."

Sarah nodded and picked out the specified book. She opened it on the table by the window, the light from the pale sun warming its pages. Mable approached, kneeling down to finish her work on the hem as Sarah began to read.

* * *

"_Arden!_" Sarah rounded down the final flight of stairs into the throne room, her eyes fury ridden and her fists clenched. She made no effort to disguise her displeasure, knowing that she could be perfectly intimidating when she wanted to. And, at present, she definitely wanted to. The book had revealed plenty, and not much of it was good. Arden had set her up with an impossible task, and now he was going to answer for it.

Bursting into the throne room, she scanned for the person she was looking for, finding him standing behind the throne. She strode towards him with purpose, only faltering when she realized who he was standing with. Speaking to the haughty advisor in low, hushed tones was Will. Sarah cocked her head; she was interested to know what they were discussing, but her hopes were dashed when they ended the conversation as soon as she was within earshot.

Will stepped towards her, a bright grin plastered on his narrow face. "Wow, Sar, you look great!" he marveled, gesturing to her expertly tailored dress. Sarah knew from looking in the mirror that what he said was true. The dress was slimming, clinging to her upper body like an over-enthused lover before gracefully flowing out at the hips. The sleeves were long and elegant with a slight poof in the shoulders that was just prominent enough to remind her of a much remembered gown from long ago.

She looked good, even by her own standards, but still she received the compliment with some skepticism. For some reason, she had a feeling that Will had only said it in an effort to distract her. Which made her even more desperate to know what he had been discussing with Arden when she walked in.

"Thanks," she edged, giving him the side eye to let him know that he was not fooling her. "You do too." Will had been re-dressed in a simple brown doublet with black pants that were close fitting, but nowhere near as scandalous as certain other pairs that she had encountered.

"I must agree with Master William. You look much more becoming now that you're out of men's attire." Arden had managed to keep most of his condescending tone in check for once, but it still showed in his face, reminding Sarah that she had sought him out with a purpose.

"Well enjoy it while it lasts," she snapped, "I didn't come down here so that you could tell me how 'becoming' I look."

"Oh?"

"No. In fact, I think you owe me an explanation." She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin upwards in an attempt to duplicate Arden's self-assured countenance.

"Do I now? And what is it that you need explained?" Not to be outdone when it came to indifference, Arden made a grand show of fidgeting with his gloves. Sarah ground her teeth.

"Uh, maybe why you chose not to disclose that your king is being held prisoner by his sister who, I might add, is the ruler of a very large, _very_ powerful kingdom," she yelled in a rush.

"Yes, she certainly is."

"And you didn't tell me any of this because…?" Sarah prompted. She was more than fed up with his misleading her.

Arden allowed several beats of silence before he answered. Then, with a sigh, he said:"Because I knew it wouldn't make a difference."

Sarah sucked in her bottom lip and nodded her head. She'd gotten the answer she expected. Arden had known from the start that she wouldn't stand a chance against such an opponent. The pretense of rescuing the Goblin King had been nothing more than a lure to get her back in the Underground without a fuss.

"Would someone explain what's going on here?" Will chirped in, glancing warily between the opposing forces of Sarah and Arden. The two were locked in a battle of eye contact, each daring the other to answer. It was Sarah who conceded first, flicking her eyes to her friend and putting him out of his misery.

"It turns out the Goblin King has a sister. The Queen of Beasts to be more specific. And in the Goblin King's moment of weakness, she stepped in and took over the labyrinth, gaining all of its resources." Sarah kept her attention on Arden as she explained, taking care that her words pried at him like barbed wire.

"Oh…" Will replied, scratching the back of his neck. "That's going to complicate things."

"She has an army, Will!" she snapped at him. "Fauns, griffons, centaurs; you name it, and she has one willing to fight for her. And since the labyrinth technically belongs to her, she has control of the Goblin Army too. Isn't that right, Arden?"

"Correct," he admitted, looking more uncomfortable than was his custom.

"Thank you," Sarah huffed. She was disappointed in this turn of events, but she still got some measure of satisfaction in humiliating the advisor.

The three of them stood in tense silence for a full minute. Arden fussed over himself, unused to a wounded pride; Will was contemplative as he review this new information; and Sarah was caught somewhere between the grasp of a fleeting triumph over Arden and a crushing despair brought on by the weight of impossibility at her situation.

It was Will who finally broke through the quiet. He spoke to Arden, his eyes fixed and intense. "Is there a way?" No one had to ask what he meant.

Arden did not respond right away; rather he allowed the silence to stretch. Sarah, annoyed by his contentment, bit out a response for him. "Of course there isn't a way."

"There is," Arden countered through the side of his mouth, "But I would not ask it of you."

Sarah's eyes widened at his response. He sounded…_sincere_. Nothing like the Arden she had come to anticipate. His reaction set her mind to work. What could be so dire that he would not even ask her to try? And how could it ever be possible for her to take on a Queen and all her forces alone?

_You did it once before_, a small, almost forgotten part of her subconscious reminded her.

_That was different, _she fought back, _back then I had to do it to save Toby. _

_And now you have to do it to rescue the Goblin King. _

_That's different. It's not my fault he's been taken. _

_Isn't it? _

"No, it isn't," she muttered to herself.

"Pardon?" Arden asked.

"Nothing." She was fighting with herself. This was not her responsibility. She had done enough by returning to the Underground when she thought saving the Goblin King was possible. Nothing more was required of her. But still, she could not help but ask the question that continued to bubble up in her mind: "What would I have to do to make rescuing him possible?"

Arden's face flustered like he thought he had misheard her. "My Lady?"

"If I wanted to rescue the Goblin King, how would I do it?" she asked, her voice more determined this time.

"Sarah, are you sure about this?" Will placed a hand on her arm, turning her so that she faced him. "Whatever it is, it sounds pretty serious."

She pulled away from him. "Tell me, Arden."

The advisor's brow scrunched as he answered her. "Well, based on the magic you performed on the goblins last night, I would say that the labyrinth recognizes you as its true leader." He paused, as though that information had not quite sunk in for him. Righting himself, he continued. "The trouble is, Queen Delicia has already made a claim to its magic when she seized control. That claim has allowed her to exert influence over the labyrinth and its creatures, but she cannot receive the full benefits of its power while there exists another claimant. You, specifically."

Sarah's head was spinning a bit as she tried to piece everything together. "So you're saying that Delicia has control of the labyrinth's magic but not its power?"

"Precisely."

"And there's a difference between those two things?" Will asked. He was struggling to keep up just as much as Sarah.

"Of course. But it is a rather complex dynamic. Once which I would rather discuss-"

"-Some other time," Sarah finished for him. There were more serious issues at hand. "If I have the labyrinth's power on my side, how do I get its magic?"

"You would have to usurp Queen Delicia's claim," Arden said, a note of despondency creeping into his tone.

"And how would I-oh for heaven's sake, Arden, stop beating around the bush! Just tell me what I need to do before I dismiss this whole train of thought for the bad idea that it is." She disliked the way he was treating her and this subject as if it were something fragile. She would only be able to make a decision once she had all the facts laid out before her.

The faint suggestion of a smile crept around the edges of Arden's lips. If Sarah didn't know better, she might have thought he looked pleased with her. "In order to remove the claim, you would need to venture into the heart of the labyrinth. There, Queen Delicia has placed a token that secures her reign over the kingdom. You would then have to remove that token and replace it with one of your own."

Sarah took a deep breath and nodded to herself. "It doesn't sound that hard."

Arden frowned. "It's harder than you think. Not only will you have to find a token of sufficient power to overtake that of the Queen of Beasts, but—what's more—is that whatever token she has placed there will try to kill you in order to stop you."

"Okay, that's it," Will cut in. "There's no way she's trying this. No. Way."

"I agree, it's far too great a risk."

But Sarah was not listening to either of them. She was, of all things, comparing her brother and the Goblin King.

Her success during her first trip through the labyrinth was based on the fact that she had no alternative. She could not see a way where she returned home without Toby coming along with her. And, painful though it was for her to admit, she had not truly rescued him out of moral obligation or sibling dutifulness. Her reasons at the time were more selfish than that. She'd agreed to run the labyrinth because she would not have been able to live with herself if she did not try.

Bearing this in mind, she accepted the Goblin King's challenge and the thirteen hours that he granted her. The labyrinth had tested her at every turn, and, despite her wish for things to be fair, she had seen that playing by the rules would get her nowhere. And so she did whatever it took, bending the rules to her liking. Anything to keep from having to spend the rest of her days with the shadow of Toby's absence hanging over her.

Though she did come to love and care for her brother throughout the process, the terrible truth was that love had little to do with her triumph. She had crafted her success out of guilt and necessity.

Now she faced a similar situation with the Goblin King. Like Toby, he had been spirited away by a scornful sibling and locked away in a castle. And Sarah felt sorry for him. She would never have wished this fate on him, be he her nemesis or not. But he was not Toby. If she failed to rescue him, there would be no unfavorable consequences to deal with, no concerned father and stepmother to worry over their baby boy. She could give up right now, let Delicia take over the kingdom, and return home to the Aboveground. That would be the smart decision. It would not do to get caught up in the political affairs of a world that she did not belong to or owe allegiance to. Giving up now was the smart thing to do.

But it was not what fifteen-year-old Sarah, Champion of the labyrinth, would have done. And regular, practical, almost-adult Sarah was desperate to convince herself that a part of her was still capable of taking on the impossible. She needed to know that she could still be stubborn, and determined, and undaunted by what lay ahead. That was what drove her now; that need to prove her worthiness to herself.

"Where is the heart of the labyrinth?" Arden and Will's attentions snapped towards her immediately, both sets of eyes wide.

"You can't be serious," Will told her, going slack-jawed with disbelief. He turned to Arden, "Tell me she isn't serious."

"My Lady," the king's advisor began to placate, "You do understand the implications of this task, don't you? It is very likely to get you killed."

"I understand. Where is the heart of the labyrinth?" She spoke without fear or any emotion at all. Just with a stone-cold resolve that she was proud of.

"Sarah, listen to me," Will said, grasping her by the shoulders. "I know I'm the one who told you to come back here, and I'm sorry if you regret it. But if you're doing all this to prove some kind of point just…stop. Please."

She gave him a gentle smile in return. "I am doing this to prove a point. But not to you." She paused, allowing Will to release her and nod his head sadly. "Arden, where is the heart of the labyrinth?"

"Are you certain this is something you wish to do?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

"Then Your Ladyship will require a token." A small frown played across his face. "It will need to be something rather small, but also powerful enough to overtake whatever Queen Delicia has placed there. And it should in some way connect you to the labyrinth."

"Don't worry," Sarah assured him, her voice full of confidence. "I know exactly what I need."

* * *

**A/N: *agressively apologizes for lateness and for boring filler chapter* Okay, now that that's out of the way: I know, not much happens here. This whole chapter was basically a big information dump for Sarah, as well as a set up for what is to come. I had a hard time writing it, and I don't blame anyone who found it to be a dull read. I am, however, very excited for what is going to go down next chapter, so stay tuned! **

**Hope everyone has had a great start to 2015, and the next update should be out on Wednesday. **


	5. Smoke You Out

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own any of Labyrinth's characters. Boo hoo.

**Chapter Title: **from "Seven Devils" by Florence + The Machine

* * *

Step and turn, that was the manner in which Sarah wound her way down the narrow staircase. A sweep of downy cold pervaded the sleeves of her dress, and nipped at her ankles with bitter fangs. She had been following after Arden for what could have been hours or minutes, but what seemed like days. Every step brought with it a heady tension that struck her deep within, rattling her bones. They were steadily winding their way towards the center of the castle, buried deep within the fragrant earth. It was also home to the heart of the labyrinth.

_How can a heart still beat when it's this cold? _She wondered, rubbing her hands together. Her breath fogged as she blew on them, whooshing away from her like a cloud on a windy day. Legs not quite steady underneath her, Sarah felt much the same.

"Not much longer now." Arden did not turn back as he spoke. He had been giving such assurances for some time now, and she had long ago learned to ignore them. In truth, she was not in much hurry to reach their destination. This task was of her own choosing, but that did not mean she was not worried about it. That did not mean she was not allowed to be afraid.

What would she be facing down in the darkness? What had The Queen of Beasts placed there that gave her such power? And, more important still, what would Sarah do once she encountered it? There were so many questions that she did not have answers for that she chose to ignore them all.

_Step and turn, step and turn_. That was what she focused on, allowing everything else to fade into the background.

Too soon they arrived at a wooden door overtaken by moss and water damage. Sarah gulped at the sight of it. It was not as menacing as she had feared, but that did not trick her into believing that her task would be any easier.

"Are you sure you wish to do this, My Lady?" Arden asked her with a skeptical brow.

"What, you don't think I can do it?" she countered, her voice sounding more confident than she felt.

"No." His response was not an attempt to wound or mock her. It was sheer, unfiltered honesty. And Sarah was grateful for it. However nervous she was, a lie would do nothing to comfort her. The truth, while equally uncomforting, at least provided a challenge. Arden did not believe she could do this, so she would have to prove him wrong.

"I guess we'll just have to see then." Sarah gazed at the door, unmoving. She was aware that Arden was watching her, probably dissecting her actions, but she could not bring herself to take the next step. Moving beyond that door could very well mean her death. Thinking about it did not make her heart race or her brow sweat. In fact, her whole body was numb. She was removed from herself. A ghost lingering on without its body.

"If you're having second thoughts, it would be best to turn back now," Arden said, annoyed more than anything.

"No, no second thoughts, I just…needed a minute."

"You remember what I told you?"

Sarah nodded, recalling the instructions he had given her. He had explained that he could only take her so far, that she would have to reach the center on her own. Beyond the outer door, she would have to go down a few additionally stories before she reached the red door that led to the center. She was only to go down the staircases, never up, and she was to go through no doors but the red one.

"Very good." Arden said when she recited this back to him. Then he turned back to the door. "You'll need to use a bit of magic to open it."

Sarah bit her lip and stepped forward. The moment had come, and she still did not have anything even remotely resembling a plan. Trying to feel okay about winging it, she raised her hand and placed her palm flat against the door. To her surprise, it was warmer than the air around her; still cool and earthy, but pleasantly so. Her eyes slipped closed as she concentrated on calling forth the necessary power. Through her eyelids, she saw the increasingly familiar glow flaring up around her. She focused on pushing the magic out of pores and into the wood. A flash of light caused her eyes to fly open, and she saw that the entire door was pulsing brightly with magic. She would have smiled with pride had not, at that exact moment, a sharp burst of pain blasted its way through her hand, zinging her wrist.

"_Dammit_!" she yelped, clutching the wounded extremity to her chest. "Why does that keep happening?"

Arden, bearing witness to it all, frowned heavily in response. "The labyrinth's magic must have realized that someone other than the claimant is tapping into it. It's trying to defend itself. In this case, by causing you as much trouble as possible."

"Of course it is," Sarah sighed, "Why I'd expect anything less from an entity closely entwined with the Goblin King…"

"My Lady, I must insist that you abandon this foolish mission." Arden placed his hand on the door as though he meant to stop her by force.

Sarah was surprised at the gesture, but it did not take her long to work up a fitting glare. "I'm not giving up now. I've come too far." Just saying the words made her inner child leap with joy.

"The labyrinth is much more aware of your presence than I anticipated. It is confused about where its true allegiance lies, and therefore it is likely to react aggressively towards your presence. You won't stand a chance."

She could hear the sneer in his voice and narrowed her eyes further. "You know, this isn't the first time I've had to deal with a dangerous labyrinth, and it certainly isn't the first time someone's told me I couldn't do something and later had to eat their words. So I don't really care whether you think I can do this or not."

"I do not _think _this is impossible. I _know_ it is." He remained impassive, as firm and unmovable as the door itself. Sarah saw that there was no way to convince him that she could do this. She would need to take a bigger risk to get him to stand aside.

"What do you care?" she offered.

"I'm sorry?" Arden squared his jaw; it was disarming how often this girl could turn the tides of conversation.

"You heard me. Why do you care if I live or die? You don't think I stand a chance at rescuing the Goblin King, and you definitely don't want me for a queen. It shouldn't make any difference to you what happens to me beyond this door." Her posture was firm and resolute. She stretched up so that she stood at her tallest, her eyes level with the patch of thinning hair on the top of his head.

Arden considered for a moment, his mouth opening once as if he were going to reply, then he decided against it and stepped aside. He did not meet her eyes, seeming rather determined not ever to look at her again. He only handed her the torch that lit their path and turned away. Sarah nodded in acknowledgement of his decision, shaking off the sting of his nonchalance. It did not matter if he was willing to allow what he thought to be her death. She did not need reassurance from him, nor did she want it. All she wanted now was to prove him wrong. She stepped forward and, with a smooth caress, pushed the door open.

The feeling of springtime that she had experienced when touching the door did not prepare her for what lay beyond. As the door closed behind her, the smell of earth invaded her senses, and there was a satisfying squelch of moss beneath her feet. But that was where the pleasantry ended. The place she had entered felt more like part of a living thing than a room. It was as if she had crawled into the mouth of some giant, comatose beast that was just waiting for her to make a wrong move and disturb its slumber. She half imagined that she could see the walls expanding and contracting like a set of lungs.

What was most disconcerting, though, was that there were no passageways. The room was only the size of a large closet, made up of nothing more than aging walls. And the air was thick and humid, the moisture in it collecting heavily in her lungs and shrinking the light of her torch. _I can't stay here_, she thought. With the words of a once helpful worm ringing in her ears, she began feeling along the wall to her right to see if it would give way to a hidden passage. She pressed her hands high and low, touching every inch of exposed surface. Grit collected under her fingernails, teasing at the soft flesh there. Teasing because there was no way forward that she could find.

Doubt clutched her. Perhaps there was no way through. The Queen of Beasts could have cast a spell over this part of the castle so that no one could enter and refute her claim. Sarah could have walked right into her trap, and no one would come to help her. Arden would assume she was dead just as he had predicted, and she would be left to starve or suffocate or go mad.

Why did she ever think she could do this alone? Even on her first trip, she had always had help. A friendly face, a word of wisdom, a helping hand…In one way or another there had always been something there to guide her. Now, she had only her wits.

_But that's the way it has to be_, she realized, and she could have laughed at herself for not understanding sooner. This was not the same labyrinth she had entered three years ago, just as she was not the same person as she was then. Ever since her return she had considered that a negative, but maybe it was just a part of growing up. Maybe this time she was not meant to have someone holding her hand every step of the way. Maybe this time she was meant to take what she had learned the first time and apply it as best she could.

_Okay, _she coached herself, _I've entered a room with no windows and no doors. What have I learned that could help me get through this? _

Sarah wove her way through the memories of the labyrinth, grasping for something of use. The worm's previous advice had not done the trick…Maybe something from Hoggle? The thought of the ugly, loveable dwarf was enough to bring a smile to her face, but his reactions to dire situations were not always the most practical. _Who else did I meet_…?

And then it hit her. The Wise Man with his funny hat. She'd given up one of her rings in exchange for some of his ramshackle wisdom, and he'd told her many things that did not quite make sense to her at the time. But perhaps she was only lacking in context. Now that she was in the proper situation, she saw that what he said could be of great importance. "_The way forward is sometimes the way back._"

She spun around, turning towards the door through which she had entered. To her amazement, it was gone, replaced by a steep set of stairs that she could not see the end of. A shiver ran up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold, and she reached a tentative foot out to take the first step.

The stairs were slick, narrow, and crafted of unbearably sharp angles. This made for slow going. Sarah found that it was best to descend sideways, as only the tips of her feet fit on the steps otherwise. And she was careful about her movements. She inspected the stair below before placing her foot there, certain that if she missed a step she would tumble down the endless flight and crack open her skull. This image was also what kept one of her hands permanently attached to the wall. Her fingers gripped it fiercely, searching for any additional means of balance.

All the while she kept thinking: _This is a terrible idea. I am an actual, real-life, complete idiot who is one slip away from a broken neck. _But at last she saw a swell of torchlight a few feet below and, feeling bold, jumped the last few stairs to land at the bottom.

Now she found herself in a hallway, lined on both sides with flaming torches that were each set above a splintering door. Glancing up and down the aisle, she registered that none of these were red in color. Frowning, she moved down the hall, searching for some other exit. It was about halfway down the stretch when she first heard it, a faint scratching coming from behind one of the closed doors. Instinctually, she leaned towards the sound, coming just shy of pressing her ear to the wood. It was there, she was certain of it. A faint and shallow breathing.

"Hello?" she called softly. No answer. She took a half step closer, and heard the light sound of someone crying. There was a strong pull in her heart telling her that, no matter the circumstances, she should try to help someone in trouble. Her head was less pleased with this thought, but it did not stop her from reaching out and grasping the door handle.

As soon as her hand made contact, there came a terrible screeching from within, loud enough that Sarah's heart stopped, and she immediately recoiled. These were not the shrieks of some wounded thing, but of a creature hell-bent on escaping its confines to tear her to shreds. She could hear claws being raked down the wood, and she said a silent prayer that the door was strong enough to withhold whatever battled against it.

Continuing down the hall proved a much more trying endeavor. Whatever spell that had been placed on the doors was broken the moment she touched the first handle. Now as she passed by the endless procession, there was always a growl or snarl or a snapping of jaws to greet her. Sarah kept to the center of the hall, wrapping her arms around herself in spite of the fact that the chill from earlier was mostly gone. But that did not stop the shiver that coursed through her when, out of the blackness ahead, there came a soft voice.

"_Sarah_…" it breathed, echoing through the passageway and through her mind. It was smooth as silk and dark as sin; a voice she would know anywhere. It caused her to hesitate for a moment, unsure if she wanted to move towards it or away from it. Her first instinct was to take a step back, but when she did, she found that she was met with a brick wall. She turned fully, then, pushing against it to test its sturdiness.

_How am I ever going to get out of here? _She wondered for the first time. All of the rooms she had passed through were blocked off after she was finished there. Even the first door she had come through was disappeared. Arden had told her only to descend a set of stairs, but did that pertain to when she was leaving too? How could she get back to the castle level if she never climbed back up?

"_Sarah_…" His voice beckoned again, and she did not know if it brought with it fear or safety. But, pressing against the wall behind her once more, she knew that she had no other choice. She had to keep moving, no matter what her doubts might be.

The more she walked, the more incessant the voice became. It strung her name together like pearls on a necklace, sometimes speaking it as a caress, other times as a slap. And, though it was rare, there were times when it sounded almost like a song. But whatever the intonation, it pulled her forward by the strings of an invisible rope. Sarah found that the sensation was not at all unpleasant. Even as the torches lining the walls grew fewer and the darkness around her grew more complete, she was never still long enough to be afraid.

"_Sarah…Sarah…Sarah…_" The passage was curving up ahead. There was something waiting at the end of it, that much she could tell. But in the dim light she had to squint to make it out.

_No, it can't be_…But it was. Waiting for her at the end of the hall was her own front door. The double set stood side by side as always, gleaming whiter than ever before. And beneath the sculpted paneling, at the very center, were the gold doorknobs that she had turned more times than any other. Whatever reservations she'd had were put aside. She approached and reached out for the knob, but before she could grasp it, the door vanished, her hand passing through the place where it had once been as if it were smoke.

A faint dizziness overtook her then, the illusion just powerful enough the muddle her brain. Shaking her head to clear it, she continued down the hall. But the farther forward she walked, the more things began to change. Soon it was not stone beneath her feet, but polished wood flooring. And the walls around her were covered by the vaguely floral wallpaper that Karen had spent weeks deciding upon. Then, all at once, she found herself standing in the front room of her house. Dropping her torch, she rushed forward and embraced the feeling of being home again. "_Sarah Sarah Sarah…"_

"Sarah!" She looked up just in time to see the little blonde mop of hair running down the stairs before he hurtled into her, hugging her around the middle.

"Hey, Tobes," she responded automatically, reaching down to smooth down his curls. The gesture seemed confused somehow, unnatural, but she could not remember why. She glanced around the house. Everything was the same, from the flowers placed on the center table down to the moldings on the stair railings, but it didn't quite feel the same.

_Am I dreaming?_ She pondered, looking down at her hands as though they might fly away. Her thoughts were flustered even more than before, and she had to fight to remember where she was. _What am I supposed to be doing here?_

"Sarah, look, I drew you a picture." Toby thrust the paper into her hands, his rosy cheeks beaming with pride. An expression she could not help but return.

"This is a beautiful picture," she praised and knelt down beside him so that they could both look at the same time. It showed the two of them, hand in hand, as they walked through the park. "But you forgot to sign your name," she reminded him. He had just learned the proper lettering last week in pre-school, and he'd been eager to write his name whenever and wherever possible. Much to the chagrin of Karen and the walls.

Excited at the prospect of yet another opportunity to inscribe his signature, Toby pulled out a crayon. His distraction gave her the opportunity to collect herself. Something definitely felt off, but she could not figure out why. A distant part of her understood that she was not supposed to be here, that she had something much more important to accomplish, but she could not remember what it was.

_Come on, Sarah, think. Think!_ She worried her lip with her teeth and stroked a hand through Toby's hair once more to soothe herself. As she did, her eyes flicked down to glance at his progress. What she saw there made her hand freeze. He was writing his name in the typical wonky handwriting of most four-year-olds, but he was doing so with his right hand. Toby, her sweet, angel faced, lovable baby brother was left handed.

"Toby?" she all but whimpered. She did not dare draw a breath, and the lack of oxygen only made her heart thump harder. The child turned to look at her, an eerie smile plastered on his inhumanly perfect face. It was not a Toby smile. Not goofy or warm in the slightest. This was the empty, mocking smile of a living doll.

She scampered away from him, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the not-Toby as possible. His smile faded as his wide blue eyes filled with hurt. "Where you going, Sarah?"

"Stay away from me," she ordered, but her voice was weak. Blood pounded through her ears as she continued to crawl away, not trusting her shaking legs to carry her. She remembered now. She was as far from her real home as she could be, fighting her way to the heart of the labyrinth where things were not always what they seemed. And the not-Toby running playfully after her was definitely not as he seemed. There was something dangerous lurking behind that innocent face, something that she needed to get away from as soon as possible. But where could she go?

The back door of the house was just within her line of sight. She could make it there if she ran, but it would mean turning her back on the not-Toby, a prospect that sent fear through her every extremity. She was halfway towards taking the risk when she remembered: _Don't go through any doors but the red one_.

Sarah was becoming frantic now. The back door was the only way out of the house. She did not doubt that the way she had come was already sealed off, which meant she had to find some other way. _Think, think, think. There has to be another way!_

"Sarah, come and play," the not-Toby whined, tugging at her dress. His pupils were the size of pinpricks, unseeing and unfeeling. She wrenched away from him and, not knowing what else to do, ran towards the back of the house. The backdoor was steps away when the not-Toby materialized in front of her, holding a rubber ball out to her. "Stay with me."

Unable to help herself, she let out a short scream and ran away from him once more. The back of the house blocked off, she raced back towards the front. _Okay, what do I do? What do I do? You can't go through any doors, so you'll need to go down—_

"Stairs!" she realized, and broke towards the kitchen, to the only downward leading stairs the Williamses had in their home. It was only a few steps leading down to a wine cellar, but it would be enough. And better still, they had yet to install a door. All that blocked the room off was a baby gate placed so that the _real_ Toby would not be tempted to fool around in there. Barreling around the final turn, she leapt over the gate and shuffled down the few feet of stairs.

To her delight and immense relief, the stairway stretched on as predicted. Less delightful was the fact that she no longer had any source of light. She could not even make out the outline of her hand against the growing darkness. Half hoping she could retrieve a flashlight from the kitchen's junk drawer, she looked back over her shoulder.

Standing at the top of the stairs, outlined by the light of the doorway, was the not-Toby, his ball still held under one arm. But worse than seeing his tiny, terrifying form was the figure that stood beside him. Holding the boy's hand within her own, was a not-Sarah.

She was dressed the same as the day she had first run the labyrinth, the loose sleeves of her poet's shirt billowing slightly. Unlike her counterpart, she was not smiling. But her eyes did penetrate the dark, and all at once Sarah knew what the Goblin King had meant when he said her eyes could be cruel. She watched, unable to turn away, as the not-Sarah opened her mouth to speak.

"You should have stayed," she said. Her voice seemed to hone its way into Sarah's core, hitting her like a pinched nerve. Then the passage sealed itself off, locking Sarah in total darkness. Sight suspended, she was forced to rely on her other senses. The only sound was her breathing, coming in ragged gasps. There was a slight saline taste in the air, as though she were near the sea. She used that thought to propel herself forward.

She placed her hands on the walls on either side of her and guided herself onward. Down she plunged into the earth, focusing on how close she must be, even though she had no evidence to confirm or deny it. Hope was enough to keep her going.

After a while, her descent became less frightening. No disturbing sounds came forth, nothing reached out to touch her. By labyrinthine standards, that was about the best she could ask for. Eventually, her confidence became great enough that she dropped her left hand back to her side, and she found herself humming out a song she'd never heard.

The moment her fear dissipated, a light flared up ahead. It was low to the ground and cast only enough light for Sarah to see what she was looking at, but when she did, a smile seemed insufficient to convey her happiness. The red door loomed ahead like the great beacon of a lighthouse on a foggy night. Sarah reached for the handle, but at the last moment a smidge of uncertainty worked its way in. After having ignored all other doors throughout her journey, it felt odd to be going through one now. And all of the questions she had pushed aside, all of her uncertainties, came flooding back. It made her realize how drastically unprepared she was.

Recognizing her fear for what it was, the labyrinth responded, the red door disappearing from sight. _So this is how it works_, she thought, unsurprised somehow. The labyrinth had never been a place for the faint of heart. It went along naturally that only the most courageous would be able to reach its true center. So she tucked away her reservations once more, not quite ready, but willing to face whatever it was that waited for her. As soon as this was done, the red door appeared again.

It swung open of its own accord this time, beckoning her forth with the grandness of a gentle bowing before a lady. Sarah accepted its invitation, holding her head loftily so that her commitment would never be in question. Though fear was no longer an issue, Sarah could not help the wave of awe that washed over her when she saw the heart of the labyrinth for the first time.

It was a tree. A tree more mighty and majestic than she had ever seen before or would again. It stretched towards the vaulted ceiling, reaching for the highest point in the heavens like a hand grasping for life's mysteries. And it _breathed_. Rhythmically, calmingly, it absorbed all the energy in the room, converted it, and released it back with more power than it had had in the first place.

Sarah approached with the esteemed reverence of a small child faced for the first time with the wonders of the world. The beauty of this tree, so ancient and yet so alive, made her own heart want to weep. As she drew nearer to the trunk, the coils of roots beneath her feet awoke, glowing with the golden light of magic. She watched as tiny particles—no larger than dust mites, but infinitely more beautiful—floated up to her and clustered at her fingertips. She held her hand to her face in sheer amazement, marveling at how the magic flexed with her movements.

Curious as to what would happen, she blew on the palm of her hand. The beads of light burst away from her then, caught on the tide of her breath just as the seeds of a dandelion would. And as they did, their light pulsed through the roots of the tree, spreading out in all directions. Sarah knew, unequivocally, that these roots ran through every corner of the labyrinth, bringing magic wherever it was needed.

That was what made her remember the true purpose of her presence there, and she had to swallow the lump of fear that rose in her throat. Something as colossal as this tree would never deign to allow fear in its presence, she saw that now. To quell what was left of her nerves, she circled the tree, noting the thickness of its trunk and the way its branches curled like the arms of a dancer leaping through the air.

_Okay, Sarah, focus. Don't get too caught up, it's just a tree. Now, look for a place to put your token. _

She walked around the base of the trunk several times, but did not find anything that looked promising. This would be just her luck. She had finally gotten to where she needed to be, but she did not know how to proceed. Once again, she found herself wondering what the Goblin King would do in this situation. It was an unhelpful train of thought, but it nagged at her nonetheless. She decided that, as the unquestioned ruler of the Goblin Kingdom, he probably had some secret connection to this tree that she did not.

Then she began to wonder how the Queen of Beasts had gone about planting her token. She did not have any more power over this entity than Sarah did. She would have had to face the same trials if she wanted to gain control.

Sarah thought back to what she had read about the Queen in the book that Mable had given her. It was a book of lineages, not particularly eloquent, but it had included a brief description. She recalled that Delicia had inherited the Kingdom of Beasts after her husband's untimely death. It was unusual for a Queen to inherit a kingdom after her husband's passing, the seat of power typically passing to his closest male relative, but the book made it clear that she had been determined to rule over the land she believed belonged to her.

_Determined_, Sarah mused. It was a word she had never taken lightly. Determined people were willing to do whatever it took to get what they wanted. And the labyrinth would know that, omniscient as it was. It would want to test the determination of all who sought to control it.

_Okay, if I was the labyrinth, and I wanted to test someone's determination, what would I have them do? _

Climbing was the first thing that came to mind. Trying to reach the canopy of this tree would certainly be an adequate test of character. But as Sarah craned her neck, she saw that there were not branches within her reach, no way for her to even begin an ascent to the top. She hoped this was a sign that climbing was the wrong course of action. But what else was there?

_I can't go up, so I must have to go…_

Her eyes flicked to the base of tree. Looking closely, she could just make it out—a small opening where the roots broke away from the trunk. Sarah gulped; it looked just big enough to crawl through, but it would take every last ounce of her willpower to do it. This was no mere staircase. This hole in the earth was not constructed by any conventional means, and it could swallow her if it so chose. But she knew in her bones that she had to do this. Whether it was because she had no were else to go or because she was desperate to prove that she could, she got down on her knees and wedged her way beneath the heart of the labyrinth.

She could see. That was what she was most grateful for. The slim passage was paved with smaller roots, each of them glowing with a bit of magic. They lit her way well enough. What she was less content with was the thick mud that she was forced to trudge her way through. It covered her all the way up to the elbow, and her hands were completely sunk in the slop. The skirt of her dress was ruined, dragging behind her in a pitiful heap. Sarah said a silent apology to Mable for destroying her hard work, and was about to thank her for having insisted on pinning her hair back when a clump of the stuff dropped from above and oozed its way down the side of her face.

"You owe me big time, Goblin King," she said aloud, clenching her teeth. The path curved up ahead, leading her to a small alcove off to the left. There, Sarah saw what could only be the Queen's token.

It was a single, perfect rose carved entirely of ice. Planted amongst the thickest cluster of roots yet, it stood tall and proud, daring anyone to dethrone it. Sarah licked her quivering lips and pulled her own token from the purse tied around her waist. She had been excited about her token before, thinking herself rather clever for choosing it, but compared to the rose it looked rather paltry. It was too late to worry about that, though. Now was the time to fret over how to get it where it need to be.

Sarah crawled closer to the rose, inspecting it from various angles to come up with the best way of removing it. There was nothing around that would help her cut through the stem, nor was she foolish enough to think that that would do the trick. After another minute of troubling over the matter, she resigned herself.

_It's going to try to kill you either way_, she reasoned. And so, she clasped the stem in her fist and started to pull.

The icy coating did nothing to dull the pain of the biting thorns as they buried themselves deep into her palm. Sarah bit into her tongue to distract herself from the sting, but there was no relief. Tears streamed down her face, cutting through the grime that had collected there and making her cheeks shine. She pulled with all her might, but for all her effort, the rose did not budge an inch. It did, however, take notice of her attempts.

"Ah-hah!" she cried out as the stem lengthened and began wrapping itself around her arm. Points of blood dotted her dress now, the sight of the crimson splotches enough to make her head spin. She wanted nothing more than to get away, to escape the pain. Screw the Goblin King and her stupid pride.

But the Queen's token cared not for her surrender; it moved from her arm to around her neck faster than Sarah could jerk away. Panic set in as her air supply was cut off. Her token slipped from her fingers as she used her free hand to claw at the noose-like stem. She succeeded only in driving the thorns in deeper. Sarah was amazed at how quickly she was fading. Already her vision was starting to go dark around the edges, her ethereal green eyes—her mother's eyes—beginning to roll back in her head. She was wheezing like a throat-soar donkey, thin streams of oxygen all that was making its way to her lungs. It was not enough. She could feel herself slipping…slipping…_slipping_.

"_There's such a sad love deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel opened and closed within your eyes._"

She could hear it, faint though it was. She could hear it, and it was the most beautiful sound to ever grace her eardrums. It brought comfort and immediate relief, that soft, tinkling melody. When her eyes peeled open, she was back in that very ballroom, everything swaying and swirling around her. The party-goers had frightened her then, as they did now with their gaudy masks and lewd advances. There was but one familiar face in this crowd, one person who could make her feel less afraid. And she had to find him.

The room tilted as she searched for him, swinging as though it were the weighted point of a giant pendulum. Sarah did not know if she was reliving the moment or not. It did not feel like a memory. It felt like she had entered some nonlinear plane of time and space where two moments could occur simultaneously. She was both wandering the ballroom and being strangled to death in the mud.

"Uh…uh…" The part of her that was still present within the heart of the labyrinth continued to struggle for air, but she was losing quickly.

"_I'll paint you mornings of gold, I'll spin you valentine evenings, though we're strangers til now, we're choosing the path between the stars._"

She found him. He was standing right in front of her, like he had been there the whole time just waiting for her to look up. And he took her in his arms once more, guiding her around the room with perfect ease. Sarah could not take her eyes off of him any more than she could the first time. His wild hair, his sharp features, his curiously disproportioned pupils—everything about him drew her in. She would have been content to stay in his arms for all time. But things were beginning to fade, even in this dream world.

"_But I'll be there for you... as the world falls down…_"

A tear dropped from her eye and landed amongst the bustle of her gown. He had promised he would be there, so where was he? Where was he as she lay dying, fighting for every breath? It was her fairytale; he was supposed to be the one to rescue her. She pressed her face into his velvet coat, angry with him, yet desperate for his comfort.

_I am dying_, she told herself as he stroked her hair. _I am dying, and he is not going to rescue me. This is not a fairytale. This is the real world where you have to save yourself. _But she was tired. So, so tired. What did it matter if she died down here? So what if Arden was right; it was too difficult to care about any of it. She would much rather stay here, in his arms, where she was safe, and carefree, and _warm_…

Too warm. Uncomfortably warm. Sarah's eyelids fluttered. What was going on? All around her there was an all-consuming heat. And it was becoming easier…easier to breath! She sat up, all at once awake and alert. Her eyes immediately fell upon the rose. The stem was still clenched in her hand, but it no longer had the advantage. Now it was wilting, writhing in any direction to try to escape. But she held fast, a blinding light coming from her hand as she squeezed. That was where the heat was coming from. It blazed over her knuckles and singed her palm, but more importantly, it was melting the rose.

The frozen petals peeled back, curling in on themselves until they were no more than pale husks. One by one they fell off, dropping to the floor where they formed tiny puddles. A minute passed, and only the stem was left. It fought her, fought for its very life, and Sarah dared not unclench her fist. It had impressive vigor for a dying thing. Her arm had become sore when, at last, the stem shuddered and dissolved completely.

The deed done, Sarah took a moment to catch her breath. Shock was hitting her in waves. She had almost died. Really and truly almost died. If it hadn't been for her waking dream, she would never have found enough fire to destroy the rose. She would be food for insects to pick clean until her bones become part of the tree. Her stomach hallowed at the thought.

Distracting herself, she felt through the mud for her abandoned token, finally finding it half sunken in the slosh. She did her best to clean it off on the few clean sections of her dress that were left. Only so much could be done, and after a while she was forced to relent and call it good enough.

_Maybe it's not so measly after all_, she thought, placing it on the mound of roots where the rose had once stood. As she turned to begin her climb out of the hole, the roots began to shift, growing a bit so that they could display the new token of command with pride. Sarah turned back once to smile at her perfectly chosen token.

It was a peach.

* * *

**A/N: *****wins award for how many times the word "door" is used in a single chapter* ****Well, here it is. This is one of the chapters that I was most excited to right while I was outlining. And I'm quite happy with how it turned out. There were a few things that I wasn't originally planning on having that made their way in there (i.e. the whole "not-Toby" thing.)**

**I also wanted to take a moment to address the two film allusions that I included in this chapter. The first being from Jennifer Connelly's 2005 film "Dark Water," which inspired the scene with not-Toby. The second is from my other favorite film involving a labyrinth, that of course being Guillermo Del Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth," which is an excellent film and should be seen by all. In case you didn't catch it, Sarah having to crawl beneath the tree is a direct reference to Ophelia's first task in the film. **

**Okay, I think that's it for this week. Leave me a review to let me know what you think; I love hearing from you all. And see you next Wednesday. **


	6. Woman King

**Disclaimer: **Regrettably, I still do not own Labyrinth or its characters.

**Chapter Title: **from "Woman King" by Iron and Wine

* * *

Her return through the red door brought with it a shallow whoosh and a dizzying rush that left her struggling for balance when she again landed on solid ground. It took a moment for her to orient herself, and for half a heartbeat, she imagined she could hear the clock striking midnight and Toby snoring softly in his crib. She thought often of that night, of how happy she had been, but she did not long for it. That was far away and long ago, and there was no use pining away over something so far gone.

As she came back to herself, she saw that she had been delivered to the front gates of the castle. The sun was sunk low in the sky, signaling that she had been gone for several hours at least. Her eyes travelled up the length of the castle wall, its peaks and towers growing hazy in the fading light. This time, the encroaching darkness did not frighten her in the least. Slipping inside, she picked out the hall that Arden had lead them down the night before, identifying it by the incessant rattling from overhead. She paid it no more attention than the buzzing of a fly.

The one thing she did notice was that the castle was curiously quiet. Had the goblins already been locked away for the night? Did they even need to be anymore? Sarah had not felt any different after the labyrinth had accepted her token. It could be that nothing had changed, that the goblins were still being held under the Queen's spell. What if more needed to be done? She was not sure she could handle much else. Pleased as she was to have completed her task, she could not ignore the steady ache in her arms or the sluggishness of her steps. All she really wanted was to sink down onto the floor and take a well-deserved nap.

But rather than fulfilling her desire, she plodded the rest of the way to the throne room, pausing at the door when she heard sounds from within. There were voices, dozens of them chattering over one another. The general atmosphere sounded to be one of excitement, but whether that was a good thing or not was yet to be seen. Risking being seen, Sarah opened the door a hair's breadth and peeked inside. Goblins. Goblins lining the walls, and clambering over steps, and dancing in splendor. She could see already that they were drunk on merriment. Their eyes were no longer misted over with rage; for the first time in years they were free to be the happy creatures she had once known.

Sarah shut the door and pressed her back to it, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. She was completely unsure of what she was feeling. It was obvious now that her efforts had not been in vain, but that only made her realize just how much responsibility she had agreed to shoulder. The citizens of the Goblin Kingdom were expecting a leader. They needed someone who could assure them that, after so many years of darkness, there were lighter times ahead. And she was not at all sure that she could be that person. What if she walked in there and they rejected her? What if they could sense just how much she had changed since her days as Champion of the labyrinth?

_You _have_ changed, but now for the worse_, she had to remind herself. Her jaw squared, knowing that she could not wait out in the hall forever. She glanced down at herself; the goblins would be getting quite a show. Excepting a small portion around her waist, the pretty silver color of her dress was disguised with muck and small splotches of blood. The near constant sting around her neck told her that the rose had more than left its mark and that she likely looked like someone who had just barely escaped a hangman's noose. She considered using the magic now at her command to clean herself up, but quickly thought against it.

_No, better that they see you like this. That way they won't have any false pretenses later on_. Bearing that in mind, she turned and pushed her way into the throne room.

Several seconds passed before the first goblins realized just who had entered the room, but when they did silence spread over them like a strong wind bending blades of grass. Sarah took two full breaths before she began to cross the room, her skirt stiff with dried mud. She held her chin high in an effort to spare herself the sight of their laughter. But as she approached the throne, a curious thing began around her. The goblins were bowing. Bowing to _her _more specifically. Wherever she passed, the creatures that were nearby would drop to one knee and lowered their heads. Their gangly bodies made it a graceless gesture, but the sentiment still hit her square in the chest.

Sarah paused in her march turning around and around to look at each of the figures bent before her. It did not seem right that they should lower themselves before her. She was only a mortal girl with no real power of her own. Just a girl in a sullied dress that did not quite suit her the way it would the blue-blooded royal it was probably meant for. Yet it was clear that the goblins saw none of this. They had accepted her as their all-knowing superior, and were ready to do her bidding. And there was something about knowing that that made her stomach twist.

"Please, all of you, stand up," she addressed the crowd, waving them all to their feet. Uncertainty written on their faces, one by one the goblins stood, glancing at each other with nervous eyes. Desperate as they were for some means of showing their admiration, they began shouting their praises.

"Long live Queen!"

And "Yay for Lady Queen!"

And "Bestest Queen ever!"

Sarah was overwhelmed with their affection, but still she could not accept it. "Quiet, quiet please. I need to speak to you all." She affected as much authority in her voice as she could, and when at last there was silence, she began.

"None of you should bow to me. I certainly don't deserve it. The truth is, I'm part of the reason you're in trouble in the first place. And I would understand if you hated me for that. But I don't think you hate me; from what I just saw, I'd say you see me as some kind of savior. And I'm not. I have no idea how to be your queen or how to run this kingdom. In fact, there's only one person I can think of who does know how to run things around here."

She stopped a moment, allowing that information to sweep over her. It was odd to speak of the Goblin King in complementary way. He was an adversary after all. But even in her minimal time in the labyrinth, she had seen that there was a sense of comradery between the king and his subjects. They were obviously loyal to him, willing to brave the dangers of battle at his command. More than that, though, was that the goblins had always seemed content under him. They laughed along when he taunted her and reveled in whatever mischief he bid them enact. Whatever else could be said of him, he did belong in this kingdom. He belonged in all the ways that she did not.

"So…I'm going to do whatever I can to get the Goblin King back. Because you deserve to be led by someone who knows what they're doing." Her speech was followed with beats of silence that stretched on into a full minute. Sarah fidgeted with her hair; the adrenaline of speaking before such a crowd enough to keep her from noticing that it was plastered to her head.

The quiet was broken by a slow, steady clap coming from the foot of the stairs. Will was looking at her with an impressed gaze and a half-smile. Arden stood just behind him, as close as he could come to slack jawed while still managing to maintain some dignity. She approached them both, allowing Will to wrap her in a hug that left her slightly breathless. The gesture flicked the switch on the rest of the crowd, the goblins bursting into even more shouts and cheers than before.

Arden opened and closed his mouth twice in his struggle to articulate his surprise. Finally, he settled with: "I cannot believe you are alive."

"Yes, you made your thoughts on the subject of my vitality quite apparent beforehand," she retorted in a somewhat snarky manner. Using the advisor's own elevated form of speaking to mock him gave her more than her fair share of sick satisfaction.

"I for one," Will stepped in to resolve the mounting tension, "Knew that it would be impossible to get rid of a pest like you so easily."

Sarah pretended to laugh at his joke while aiming a light punch at his shoulder. Soon though, they were separated by the masses of adoring subjects who were offering mugs of dark ale or a chicken for her table. Some of them even scraped the mud off her dress and spread it across their foreheads. And all the while they were chanting, "Queen! Queen! Queen!" so loud that it left her ears ringing.

"Please," she piped up to correct them, "I'm not a queen. You can just call me Sarah." Her declaration only served to incense them all the more. Now they positively shrieked her name at every opportunity, leaping towards the ceiling to try to get a look at her.

"I bet you never imagine having adoring fans quite like this," Will shouted above the uproar.

"What?" she called back, unsure if she had heard correctly. But Arden interrupted before Will could repeat himself.

"Perhaps it would be best to stow the idle chatter until after you've cleaned yourself up." Sarah opened her mouth to protest his tone, but then realized how desperate she was for a shower. She nodded her assent. "Good. We can meet up in half an hour to discuss how best to execute the promises you have made to the citizens of the Goblin Kingdom."

"Right," she agreed, her nerves grinding as she thought of how public an assurance she had made. She looked to Will for reassurance, but he only shrugged and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. She made to go back to her room, when Arden stopped her once more.

"And Sarah," he said pointedly, "I must admit: I'm rather impressed."

She raised an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment. "Thank you," she allowed. Arden inclined his head to her in a show of deference before turning away. "And Arden," she called, stopping him at the door. "It's still 'My Lady' to you."

Not giving him a chance to respond, she gave him her back and breezed out of the room, grinning to herself all the while.

* * *

Sarah rested her chin against her knees as she lounged in the tepid water of the Goblin King's bathtub. The water had long ago turned murky—an inevitable byproduct of a shower-less facility—but still she could not bring herself to get out. Getting out meant facing her responsibilities. It meant actually setting out to do what she had come here to do. After facing so many obstacles already, it seemed impossible that the time had finally come. In less than twenty minutes, she would be laying out plans to rescue the Goblin King.

Sighing, she sank down in the tub a bit more. This was so like her. Making promises she had no idea how to keep. She was excellent at finishing the tasks she undertook, but getting started had always proved a daunting task. How was she to begin the process of extracting a king from the clutches of his decidedly deranged sibling? _I just had to go an open my big _mouth, she thought, stretching out her foot to idly turn the faucet on and off. The alternating rush of water was soothing in some strange way.

"Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be…" she murmured to herself. Her head tipped back, resting on the edge of the tub as her hair dripped onto the black and white tiles. She rested there for another moment before rising all at once and hoisting herself out.

_At least now I'm clean and clueless._

She returned to the main room with a fuzzy towel wrapped around her torso, her mass of dark hair left out to air dry. She combed through it with her fingers as she explored what the various chifferobes and dressers in the room had to offer. Mable would certainly not be in a rush to get her back in one of her designs any time soon, so she would have to make due with whatever she could find. Amidst her search, she came across a particular wardrobe that made her feet freeze and her breath catch.

Spread out before her were all of the things she had seen the Goblin King wearing on her first trip. It was all there, staring out at her, blazing through her memory like a reels of film being played at high speed. Her fingers came just shy of the feathered cape he had worn when last she saw him, but she could not quite bring herself to touch it. So she relented to stand there, frozen in tableaux, with the items that brought her back to the most transformative experience of her childhood.

"Jareth," she breathed out in a rush. Her back tightened; she had not meant to say his name aloud. It made her feel exposed, and she had to look over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard. But she was alone and free to say his name as often as she liked. _If_ she liked. She had never had occasion to say it before and had been quite content to think of him only as the Goblin King, one-time kidnapper of her baby brother. It was easier to think of him that way. As nothing but a nameless monarch that it had fallen under her to rescue. If he had a name then he became a real person, someone who was depending on her for their safety and security. Someone whose well-being she could become actively invested in. Yes, it was definitely safer to continue think of him as the King of the Goblins and nothing more.

But that did not stop the name from resonating through her mind, tickling at her tongue as it begged to be spoken again. It was a peculiar name to pronounce, she noted. The end syllable was all but completely foreign to her, almost making her feel as though she were speaking with a lisp. Ja-reth. Ja-_reth_.

"_Jareth_," she said with a bit more verve.

"What about him, dearie?" Sarah jumped and spun around, coming much too close to spraining an ankle in the process. Mable was standing at the door, as permanent a fixture there as the bed or the window. In her hands was another dress, yellow this time, with an empire waist and cap sleeves. Sarah frowned at it.

"Nothing about him. Is that for me? I really don't think I should wear it after what I did to the last one."

"Oh nonsense," the goblin woman huffed, sufficiently distracted by Sarah's self-deprecation. "Besides, it's only fitting that a queen be properly dressed."

"Mmm," Sarah hummed. Her attention was back on the wardrobe, Mable's words floating through her ears like background music. This dress was just as lovely as the first, but some part of her still felt that she was not meant to wear it. It was certainly a dress made for a queen; the kind of garment that any woman of fashion would long to wear. But it was not right for _her_.

_It _is_ a queen's dress. And you are not a queen_. She had admitted as much to the goblins, and now she admitted it to herself. Whatever magic she beheld and whatever position of power she had been thrust into did not make her a queen. And no amount of fine dresses would change that. Nor did she want it to. She did not come here to play the queen with powdered cheeks and cotton candy hair. She was here to play the knight in shining armor come to rescue…not her prince. He was not chivalrous enough for that. He was a king in the best scenario; a dragon in the worst. But rescue him she would, just as she had vowed. And just as she had shown them earlier, it would not be nearly as pretty as it was in a fairytale.

"Mable," she called, not taking her eyes away from the closet. "I'd like you to help me dress in something a little different tonight."

* * *

"What in the Underground do you think you are doing?" For once, Arden's voice was raised beyond the point of propriety. His upper lip was trembling, and his face was flitting between various hues of red and purple.

Sarah smirked innocently. "I was under the impression that I would be planning how best to rescue the Goblin King." Ignoring the advisor's obvious displeasure, she strode past and flopped down into the throne. He stared at her, aghast and on the verge of fuming.

"You will do no such thing while you are dressed like _that_."

"Is there something wrong with the way I'm dressed?" She glanced down at her figure, draped over the throne as it was. Mable had managed to find her a pair of fitted black pants that would fit a woman's frame, as well as some knee-high boots that stretched over her calves as smoothly as butter. But it was her top that Arden seemed to reject most adamantly. She wore the burgundy shirt and black leather jerkin that she had last seen in the Escher Room, the ensemble lacking only the sickle-shaped pendent and the gloves. Even without them, though, Sarah knew she cut as imposing of a figure as the Goblin King himself.

"There are several things wrong with the way you are dressed," Arden snarled, "The least of them being that it is highly improper for a woman in your position."

"And what position is that?" she shot back. "As potential savior of the Goblin Kingdom?"

"As an interim _queen_, you should don only the finest gowns."

"I would agree," she replied, standing once more so that she could look him directly in the face, "But you're not asking me to be a queen."

Brushing past the shocked advisor, she began looking over the map of the Underground that had been spread out on a low, oak table. There were more kingdoms than Sarah could have imagined, and they were as many and as varied as countries on a globe. Some bore names that sparked fond memories from childhood myths, others were too complex for her to even begin to pronounce. But there was only one that she needed to concern herself with, and that was the Kingdom of Beasts. It rested north of the Goblin City, bordered by a great mountain range depicted on the map by miniaturized peaks. It formed a crescent-shaped barrier of protection around the flanks of the castle, leaving only one possible point of entry…

The door swung open, distracting her from her train of thought. She looked up to see Will entering the room, followed on either side by an armored goblin. His face lit up when he saw her, becoming more animated and expressive. "Cool look, Sar," he said, rubbing the velvety fabric of her shirt between two fingers.

"Oh, thanks," she replied bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Wearing the Goblin King's outfit in front of Arden had been a kind of joke meant to annoy him, but facing Will, she understood how easy it would be to misinterpret the choice. It could suggest a degree of intimacy. And there was certainly nothing intimate between her and Jareth.

"I'd agree, m'Lady. It's a fine choice indeed." Sarah looked down at the goblin to Will's left. He was taller than most, reaching to about the height of her hip. He had a white, handlebar mustache with the rest of his hair tucked under a helmet with two curved horns on either side. He stood before her in eagerness, and she knew without having to ask that he would do whatever it took to please her.

"Thank you, sir. Do you have a name?" she asked.

The goblin man seemed to grow taller being addressed by her. "I am General Borg, m'Lady. First commander of the Goblin Army."

"Excellent to meet you Borg. I'm Sarah." She turned now to the second goblin, "And you are?"

His eyes widened, the pig-like snout of a nose wiggling a bit. "Windle, m'Lady. I'm just a foot soldier."

"Good, I'm glad to have both of you. I'm going to need your help a lot over the next few days." Her gaze fell back on the map. "Speaking of which, what does the squiggly line in front of the castle mean?" She had noticed it earlier and wondered at its purpose. It spiraled outwards from a point at the center, like the eye of a tiny storm.

Arden approached then, glancing over her shoulder to see what she was pointing at. "That is a symbol indicating the position of a labyrinth." Her head snapped up to stare at him blankly, praying that she had misheard him.

"A _labyrinth_?" she hissed through her teeth.

"Yes," Arden returned, gloating now. "A labyrinth. Similar in structure to a maze, but leading to the center rather than to the end."

"I know what the difference is, what I want to know is why you didn't tell me about this sooner!" she fumed at him. This was intolerable. She had expected to face difficulties, but another labyrinth? She had barely made it through the first one with her head still attached to her body!

"It's really an obvious assumption. A labyrinth is an excellent way to defend against attack," the advisor shrugged. He was getting far too much enjoyment out of riling her.

"Well excuse me for not anticipating the royal family's evidently deep-seated trust issues," she bit back. "You know, I'm doing all of this as a favor to you. You could at least do your job and _advise_ me on these things."

"Oh, am I your advisor too? Funny, I distinctly remember my contract being made out to the Goblin _King_."

Sarah shook her head, chewing at her lip a bit. "If that's how you feel, I'm sure I could find you a much more suitable position to fill. Perhaps one in the Bog of Eternal Stench."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna bet?"

They had moved progressively closer to one another, and now found themselves standing toe to toe. Sarah puffed out her chest to show just how serious she was, while Arden opened and closed his fist, seemingly fighting the urge to give her a slap on the wrist. It was possible that their altercation could have become physical, had not they been interrupted at that precise moment.

"Will you two knock it off? You're wasting everyone's time arguing."

Sarah's attention immediately shifted. She had almost forgotten that Will was still standing there. A light blush crept up her neck when she realized. _I seem to have been forgetting about him a lot recently_, she mused. And it was true. They had not spoken just the two of them since her return to the Underground. She felt doubly guilty when she took into account that this was his first experience with the place. He was probably more overwhelmed than she could imagine, and she had done nothing to reassure him. Some best friend she was turning out to be.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Will." She made to squeeze his hand, but he pulled away from her before she could reach.

"Let's just get this thing planned out," he said stiffly. She nodded, swallowing the tightness in her throat.

And so they planned, long into the night. Arden proved helpful for once, as did Borg and Windle. It was decided that the latter of the two would accompany them on the journey, while the former stayed behind to guard the Goblin City against possible retaliation. The thought of such a course of action made her sick, but she supposed it was best to consider every possible outcome. However, there were certain scenarios that seemed so preposterous that she felt herself dozing off in the middle of them. Each time she was on the verge of slipping away, though, Will would nudge her with his elbow, bringing her back to attention. She was thankful for it at first, but as the night dragged on, her head began drooping more frequently and Will's jabs became much sharper.

The clock had struck 13 o'clock by the time they had set everything in place. They would set out at dawn to brave the new labyrinth. Much to her dismay, it was the only way to reach the castle outside of scaling a mountain. She did her best to keep her wits about her; she had done this before after all. How different could it be? But even as she tried to encourage herself, her hand reached up to feel the string of scabbing holes in her neck. If the Queen of Beasts's token was any indication of her power, then Sarah was in for a lot more than a few false alarms.

She was on the point of moping back to her room for what was sure to be a night of fitful sleep, when Will caught her arm. Her eyes focused on his grip, concerned. "What is it?" she asked, trying to meet his gaze. But he was watching, waiting for the others to disperse before he spoke.

When at last they were alone, he said, "I think you should send me home. To the Aboveground."

Sarah could not help her mouth falling open. She shook her head, confused more than anything as to why he was asking this of her. "_Send you home_? Will, what are you talking about?"

"I think it would be for the best—"

"But that's ridiculous!"

"Please, let me finish," he warned, giving her a stern eye that made her clam up. "I'm not doing anyone any good here. I don't know anything about goblins, or beasts, or how to solve a labyrinth. I'll be in the way more than anything."

"Don't say that," she said, her voice no stronger than a whisper.

"It's true. What good am I in all of this? I'm Wimpy Will, remember?" he said it with a joking tone, but Sarah could tell that he was far from laughing at himself. This was a real issue that he had been carrying with him this whole time, and she had failed to notice it.

"I can't send you back. I won't. Not without me."

"Sarah-"

"I won't do it, Will! What do you have to go back to? Hmm?"

"I have a job."

"You're a lifeguard in the summer. That's months away. What about until then? You'll hang around at home with your dad until he gets so drunk and angry that you have to hang out at Burger King until he passes out at 2 a.m.?" She was rambling now, and she knew it. She should not be saying these things. But he had thrust her into a state of panic, and her mouth was no longer under the control of her head.

Will remained silent for some time after that. Her words had not gone unnoticed, and she could only watch as he silently worked through his varying degrees of anger. "Send me home. Now." His voice was so devoid of emotion that it cut her to the bone.

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"Stop it, Sarah! Just-" he paused, lowering his voice. "Just send me home."

Tears were blurring her vision now. Real tears of genuine emotion. She did not want him to go. Could not let him go, in fact. Hoggle, and Ludo, and Sir Didymus were missing, and she had no idea how to find them. He was her only friend in the world. The only person she could count on to be on her side no matter what. He believed in her even when she did not. And she knew—knew as instinctively as she knew how to write her name in the dark—that she would need him in order to make it through the labyrinth. However useless he thought himself to be, she needed to have him with her.

"No," she told him.

"Damn you," he seethed, turning away as if he were unable to look at her. She did not care. He could try to hate her all he wanted, so long as he stayed with her. It was a selfish thought, she was aware, but she would not be able to go on alone. And with so much riding on her success, she could not afford to let something so within her control fall to the wayside.

"You told me to come back here," she reminded him again, "And you agreed to come with me when I asked. Now, we're in this for the long haul, so I suggest you and I both get some sleep so that we're ready to head out in the morning."

She walked away then, bothered not at all that she was being harsh with him. This was her kingdom after all. And for the next three days, she would do whatever it took to ensure that it stayed standing.

* * *

Far beyond the walls of the Goblin Kingdom, lurking in the shadow of frosted mountains, lay the Palace of Glass. It was magnificent structure, rising large and frightening out of the frozen earth. A gentle snow fall ghosted down, dusting it with the lightest coating of ice, making it twinkle like the faint outlines of stars beyond the clouds. And within the white-washed walls of the castle, seated in a throne surrounded by furs and the melting wax of a thousand candles, sat the Queen of Beasts.

It was late, even for one as infused with the blood of owls as she. But something had woken her; a disturbance powerful enough to pull at her heartstrings and lurch her out of bed. It was not a feeling she recognized, but rather one that she had been anticipating. Despite the discomfort, it caused a sly smile to sneak its way across her angelic features. It was time to check in on her little challenger.

Settling into her throne, Delicia called forth a crystal, letting it spin on her fingertips for a moment. She did not want to appear overeager, though there was no one there to watch her. In her own time, she allowed the crystal to slow, revealing to her the image she had called forth. Her eyes narrowed, fixed on the dark haired girl within. Though she was hardly a girl anymore. Her face had lost some of its roundness, giving way for other assets to emerge. The Queen chuckled at how mortals could change so drastically in such an infinitesimal amount of time.

She watched on as the girl went about making plans for her daring rescue mission. It was impossible to hear any of it, of course, but just the sight of her dedicated plotting was enough to bring a spark of excitement to the Queen's core. It was clear that the girl had succeeded in removing her token, which meant that everything was moving along in exactly the way she wanted it to. Arden offering his help was an obstacle that she had not foreseen, but he could be dealt with later. The important part was that the girl had agreed to take on the impossible task of rescuing her dear Goblin King. Delicia allowed a giggle escape her lips; how easy this was going to be. And how fun.

Tucking her legs underneath her like a small child, she conceded to let the crystal roll back and forth across her hand. "Come to me, precious Sarah," she crooned at the spinning orb. "Let's see what you can do."

* * *

**A/N: And with that, I officially declare the introductory arc of this fic closed. I know, five chapters of build up seems excessive, but it will be worth it now that we get to move on to actual plot. Especially since (spoiler alert) we'll get to check in with everyone's favorite Goblin King next chapter. **

**Thank you all for your continued support of this story, and I'll be back next week!**


	7. Purest Expression of Greed

**Disclaimer: **_Labyrinth_ and it's characters belong to Jim Henson and co.

**Chapter Title: **from "Foreigner's God" by Hozier

* * *

Waking came easily to her that day, with none of the early-morning fogginess that too often clouded things. Now she opened her eyes as if they had only been closed for a moment to reflect on some deep thought. And, in fact, there was one thought that had taken over the whole of her being, overtaking both her conscious and unconscious mind. Today was the day. She would finally be setting out on the quest to bring the Goblin King home.

Now that the moment was upon her, she was curiously unconcerned with it. Perhaps it was because she had restored some of her faith in herself; or maybe she was motivated by the ring of scabs around her neck that, in her stubbornness, she refused to heal. But mostly it was because she was too tired to worry about what the coming days would bring. Things would either work in her favor or they wouldn't, but only time would tell. There was no use getting worked up about it now. Stretching out her legs, she rose from the bed and dressed herself for the journey.

"Good morrow, m'Lady."

"Morning, Windle," she replied, smiling down at the goblin guard. At Arden's suggestion, he had been assigned the esteemed duty of watching over her day and night. Sarah did her best not to be annoyed by this—he was only doing his job after all.

"Might I remark on how fierce your ladyship looks?" he squeaked. Sarah glanced down at him and noticed that he was looking at her somewhat warily. She had chosen Jareth's studded leather jacket for the journey, finding it warmer than she might have imagined. And the armored shoulder was not a bad touch either.

"That's exactly what I was going for," she told him, patting him on the shoulder to show that—frightening as she might look—he had no reason to fear her. Content with her gesture, they made their way to the throne room to greet the rest of the public.

The bedlam of the previous day had subsided somewhat, the citizens of the Goblin Kingdom waiting for their new queen with patience. But what they lacked in euphoria, they made up for in numbers. There were at least twice as many goblins packed in and around the throne, as well as many craning their necks from the hallway just outside the main doors. And when they saw her, there was a mad dash to be the first to bow, the first and best one to show their loyalty.

Unaccustomed though she was to such subservience, she thought it best not to discourage them. For years they had had to struggle on without a leader, without anyone who took their welfare and that of the kingdom into account. They needed someone who they could turn to in times of need. And if they were willing to accept her in that role, then she would not be the one to tell them no. She accepted their displays as best she could, with gratitude and superiority in equal part. It would be unwise to let her subjects know that she was depending on them just as much as they were depending on her. A ruler should always appear strong in times of turmoil.

_I can be strong_. This was what she told herself as the crowds parted to allow her through to the throne. It was not that she doubted that she could pull through in a difficult situation; she had proven that when she rescued Toby. But this time there was so much more at stake. Not just the lives of the goblins and their king, but the course of her own life. Her whole future would be determined by her actions over the next three days. Was she to return home? Or be doomed to spend the rest of her days as a queen who had failed her people when they needed her?

These thoughts weighted her to her throne, holding her there like all of her bones had been replaced with shackles. And she found herself wondering if this was how Jareth felt, how all rulers felt when they looked out at the expectant, hopeful faces gazing up at them. All the portraits of kings and queens, looking so calm and self-assured, had not prepared her for how it really felt to wear a crown. _Lonely. It feels lonely. _

But she was not alone. Not entirely. Sarah was reminded of this when Arden and Will appeared at her side. Just seeing them brought such a wave of relief that she could have flung her arms around either one of them. It meant everything to have them there, helping her bear the load that she was being made to carry. It was then that she remembered the things she had said to Will the night before, and a leaden weight settled in her gut.

"Thank you for coming," she said to him, widening her eyes to show how sorry she was for forcing him to share the burden of her responsibilities.

"My pleasure," he replied, showing her a smile. She frowned in response. It was not a Will smile. It did not curl across his face and wrinkle the skin around his hazel eyes, and she was reminded that too often in his past he had been forced to pretend everything was fine when it was not. She did her best to convince him that she had been fooled, but it did nothing to stop her throat from clenching painfully.

"My Lady," Arden stepped forward, diverting her attention. "I presume by your _ostentatious_ state of dress that you are ready to embark."

"Ready as I'll ever be," she shrugged. The call to action had given her the necessary strength to pull herself from the throne and to her feet. Windle came forward from the crowd with the fifty or so retainers that would be accompanying them on the journey. The plan was for her to teleport them all directly to the gates of Delicia's labyrinth so that they would not have to waste a day on travel. Sarah had spent the hour before bed practicing the transportation spells necessary to make the trip as painless as possible.

"Before you go, m'Lady." General Borg was clambering through the crowd, holding an awkwardly wrapped parcel under one arm. "This belongs to you," he said, presenting her with the package.

"Oh you cannot be serious…" Arden grumbled.

Sarah did not spare him a passing glance as she pulled the wrappings from her strange new gift. She could not help the gasp that escaped her lips when she saw what it was. Long as her leg and wide as her bicep, a magnificent sword gleamed before her. Her hand, moving as though it were detached from her body, ghosted forward to pass along its length, always remaining a few millimeters away from touching it. The steel was polished to a mirror-like perfection, the blade sharp as wit. She pulled back from it a bit, feeling that such a weapon would not deign to be in her presence.

"It's lived in this castle for as long as there has been an Underground. All of the rulers of the Goblin City have carried it into battle with them," Borg explained.

Her eyes flashed to his. "But—you aren't expecting me to take this with me, are you?" she stumbled over her words, snatching her hand away from the sword and cradling it to her chest like it had been disloyal to her.

"Why, you must take it with you," he insisted, "It is a time honored tradition."

"It is indeed," Arden interrupted. "Which is why it should not be besmirched by the likes of her."

"I'm still standing here, you know," Sarah snapped at him, hands on hips. "But honestly, Borg, even if I did bring it along, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I've never swung a sword before in my life."

"Well, that's the best part. You don't have to know how to swing it; it'll do all the work for you!"

"What do you mean?" she asked as he thrust the weapon towards her.

"You try it out, and you'll see."

Hesitating, she reached forward to grasp it by the hilt. As soon as she touched it, it seemed to mold to her grip. The weight was just what she could manage, the balance as suited to her as could be. Sarah thought that it lost some of its beauty under her feeble fingers, but it still managed to retain a condescending dignity. And it positively hummed as she sliced through the air with it. She came close to dropping it then, overwhelmed by the power she wielded. She ceased swinging it, instead holding it at eye level to inspect it more closely.

The crowning piece was a glowing red jewel imbedded in the hilt. The light from the jewel ebbed steadily, flashing with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. Of _her _heartbeat. Light and rapid, like that of a mouse. It was hypnotic to her. And as her eyes burrowed into its depths, drawing color from it, she found that she was swaying on her feet as though she were caught in a dance. A dance that was nothing like the one she had shared with Jareth those years ago. This was something infinitely more consuming, more dangerous.

It did not take Arden long to notice the trance she had fallen into. Placing a hand on her shoulder so as not to surprise her, he reached around and took the sword from her grip. "She cannot handle this. Its power is too great."

Sarah was reeling, her eye unable to focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds. Everything was a blurred impersonator of reality, a painting that was bleeding water colors. She collapsed back into the throne and let her head fall into her hand as she tried to steady herself.

"What's wrong with her? What did that thing do?" Will was speaking, but his voice was far away and barely recognizable, as though he were talking through a fan set on high volume. And there was a strange ringing in her ears, a continuous sound that was suspiciously similar to the honed tune of the blade swinging in a wide arc.

She was aware of everyone crowding around her, asking if she was alright. And when she did not respond, of Will shouting at someone. "…get that thing away from her!" was the last thing she could make out, and it brought her out of her sluggish state in a heartbeat.

"No," she ordered. Her eyes fell on Borg, who was looking at her like he was surprised she was still conscious. "I want to bring it with me."

"That is absolutely out of the question," Arden said in finality.

"Oh, really?" she quirked, "Because the last time I checked, I was the one who climbed down to the center of the labyrinth and planted my token there. Which gives me superiority over you."

Arden's eyes widened at her for a moment before narrowing to a dangerous glare. "You little—"

"For the good of us all, Arden, do not finish that sentence. I'm taking the sword." She was back on her feet now, if only to show that she could. The room still spun a bit, but admitting that would do nothing to help her cause. It was not enough to fool Will. The expression he gave her almost made her double over, for he no longer looked at her with reverence, or concern, or affection of any kind. He just shook his head in exasperation.

"Sarah, just tell me this: is there something about this place that completely destroys your decision making skills?"

"Will—"

He did not allow her to finish. "Because you aren't acting like the person I thought I knew. Sensible Sarah. That Sarah never would have deliberately put her life in danger for…For I don't even know what!"

Sarah allowed him to vent his frustration at her. She supposed he deserved it after the way she treated him the night before. But that did not stop a nasty thought from simmering through her mind. _I should have _him_ thrown in the Bog of Eternal Stench_. She blushed even though she had not spoken it aloud. It was an embarrassingly authoritarian thing to think. Something a queen would say. Worse, it was something _Jareth_ would say. And she would go to the Bog herself before she let herself be compared to him. But Will could not understand where she was coming from. Something had passed between her and that sword. A sort of connection that was formed in those moments where it held her gaze. It was almost as though it were speaking to her, telling her that she would need it somewhere along the way. It was a prospect that both intrigued and terrified her, but mostly it solidified her choice. She would bring the sword along, no matter the cost.

She looked at Will, waiting for their eyes to meet before she spoke. When he finally looked up, she said, "I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be." He scoffed at her, looking away. "If there was any other way, I would take it. But I know this is what I have to do."

"Whatever you say, Your Highness," he ground out. He was holding himself back. Sarah could see all of the things that he wanted to say swimming just beneath the surface of his pale grimace. That he had stayed after asking to go, that he had been nothing but supportive throughout all of this, that he knew her…Knew that in the three years of their friendship, she had never been this headstrong. To him she would forever be the epitome of poise and rationality.

But there was more to her than that. There was a whole other side that he knew nothing about. A side that was impulsive, and deliberate, and even conniving when need be. Those were the things that had gotten her through the labyrinth the first time, and they were the things that she would be relying on this time. And she would not stow them away because they made him uncomfortable.

"Borg, bring me the sword." The goblin general jumped at her instruction, hastening to grant her request. He helped her secure the scabbard around her waist so that its weight was comfortably distributed. "Thank you. It's beautiful," she complimented.

"The blade is called Meridian, m'Lady. I pray that it will serve you well," he replied with a swift bow.

"I trust you'll keep the castle well protected?"

"With all that is within my power."

"Good." She faced Arden. "I'm ready when you are."

The advisor nodded, gathering the necessary attendants. As this would be her first time transporting multiple people, he had suggested they all hold hands in order to make it easier. The goblin soldiers were delighted by this, linking arms as though they were about to join in a cheerful song. Sarah, Will, and Arden remained stone faced.

Sarah grimaced as her hand was clutched on either side. Arden's was surprisingly smooth and cool, how she imagined a pianist's hands might be. On the other end of the spectrum, Will grabbed her hand in a firm hold, his grip more a punishment than a comfort. Her lips tightened to a thin line as she tried to ignore the feeling.

Addressing the crowd one last time, she said, "I leave General Borg in charge during my absence. You will all be safe under his command. The rest of us will return three days from now, you have my word." She deliberately failed to clarify who the 'rest of us' would be, thinking it best not to draw attention back to the promises she had made. Instead she faced towards the uncertainty of the future.

_The Kingdom of Beasts_, she thought, knowing that she would need all of her focus to get them there. She allowed it to fill her mind, to overwhelm her to the point where her brain began to throb. She could not see the magical particles swirling around her, but she could sense that they were there. It was working. She thought harder. _To the Kingdom of Beasts. To the castle, and the queen, and to Jareth. _

The last thought was the one that did it. The beads of light clustered around the party in a dense fog that blended out into a burst of blinding light. The citizens of the Goblin City were forced to shield their eyes as the aurora surrounding their new leader blazed with the intensity of the sun before receding back to a single point of starlight. When the goblins looked back up, their champions were gone.

* * *

_Tick tock goes the thirteen hour clock_. Jareth lazily followed the minute hand as it circled its way around the face. The steady clocking sound it made with each go around was near deafening in the absolute silence of the oubliette. There was no way to escape it; that ticking sounded even in his dreams. Not that he was complaining. The clock was the only constant source of company during his time there. Had he been more sentimental, he might even have named it. It would have been nice to have a friend. But every time he entertained the notion of naming, the only name that came to mind was Sarah.

_Sarah_. He supposed it could be a fitting name for his clock companion. It was as annoying as it was amusing, after all. But the name brought with it such a lingering degree of spite that he could not bear to speak it aloud. He thought about her enough as it was, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking, feeling. It was an infuriatingly constant fixation. He tried to combat it in a reasonable way, by reminding himself of things he already knew. She was not thinking of him, that he was sure of. Her thoughts would be on school, and friends, and that admittedly adorable baby brother of hers. And if they strayed to him at all, it would be only in passing. The elaborations of a girl whose overactive imagination had thrust her into a world she had no business in.

In short, she would be continuing on with her mundane human life, blissfully unaware that her childhood nemesis was rotting away. Bored to the point of death, as it were. With one ankle chained to the floor, he did not even have the luxury of movement. He could stand, and walk a few feet in any direction, but mostly he just leaned against the dank wall and tried to find some means of occupying his mind lest it turn to mush.

As he sought out some useful endeavor, his ears pricked at a scurrying sound coming from above. His arched eyebrows rose in curiosity; it was not yet time for his daily meal. Could the brownies be trying to play another trick? Though excellent housekeepers and more than competent jailors, they could be meddlesome creatures at the best of times. After pointedly ignoring their pranks for over a year, though, he had thought to have put an end to it. Perhaps he had underestimated their stamina. Well, it was no matter. All he had to do was disregard them as he had done a hundred times before, and they would grow tired of him.

The sound persisted. He was growing less certain that the brownies were attempting to heckle him. Their pitter pattering footsteps were not concentrated around the opening of the oubliette, but rather scattered throughout the passageway above. As if they were running back and forth without cease. Could a prisoner have escaped? The very idea sparked a twinge of hope somewhere deep within him, but it did not take him long to snuff it out. If there had been an escape, Delicia would have sent more than a handful of brownies to take care of it. Besides, their footsteps did not sound agitated. The whisper light scuttling was more akin to excitement.

_What could the brownies possibly have to be excited about? New cleaning supplies? _He groaned in exasperation that these were the questions filling his days. His head fell back to bounce against the wall over and over again. He worried that he might get a bald patch from how often the gesture was repeated. this tedium he was was forced to endure would be the end of him.

"I wish the Goblin King would come and take _me_ away," he grumbled just for the sake of irony. He did not expect a response.

"You called?" his sister chirped, appearing in the cell sudden and entire.

He scowled at her. "Not for you. I take it back." In truth, he was embarrassed to have been caught uttering such a wish. It was unbecoming of the king he was meant to be.

She must have sensed his mood because she laughed in response. "You should know better than anyone, brother, that what's said is said."

"True," he allowed, "Does that mean you're going to let me out of here so that I can run your labyrinth in exchange for your continued absence?"

"Hmm, tempting, but no." She conjured a chair, draping herself across it with exaggerated leisure. "As it happens, I was already on my way here for a visit when I heard your little request."

"A visit?" He did not buy that for a moment. "What could you possibly hope to gain through a visit? You've never come before."

"And with good reason," she returned, curling her nose in distaste. "You look even worse than I imagined you would."

To his annoyance, her words had gotten to him. He had seen his reflection only a handful of times in the last three years, but he was aware that that was probably for the best. A sparse diet and general lack of nutrition had hollowed his cheeks to the point of emaciation and leached the color from his face. His hair had long ago grown brittle and lifeless, only the strongest pieces remaining in their desired state of intentional disarray. He made a pitiful sight. Sunken eyes, the same black poet's shirt for the last three years, and dirt covering every inch of exposed skin. It was deplorable to see how far he had fallen!

And now Delicia was leaning forward in her chair, inspecting him as though he were a specimen under a microscope. Her perfect curls fell forward, grazing the sleeves of her gown. A gown that was deep purple. The color of royalty. Worn specifically, he knew, to taunt him. She was effortlessly at home in that color, as though she were born with shades of aubergine in her blood. No one would ever question her authority, her right to the kingdom. It was him they would question. He the ever disappointing child.

"You've grown so thin, love. Skeletal." She reached out a hand as though she meant to stroke his cheek, but then caught herself and decided the better of it. "You'd think I'd forgotten to feed you."

"You've sent nothing but honey lathered toast," he snapped at her.

"Did I? Silly me."

He knew better than to think that an apology. "The brownies eat everything but the crusts. Even you have to agree that's cruel and unusual punishment."

"I agree that they have an insatiable appetite for honey."

"Why have you come?" His limited patience was growing thin quicker than he expected. But then, she had always had that effect on him. The way she always managed to work her way under his skin without ever arriving at the point…

"I was hoping you might congratulate me," she answered, characteristically vague.

"On what?" he bit back, refusing to play her game.

"I've got a runner." She said it with the boastful grin of a maiden proclaiming to have had her first kiss. Jareth distrusted it immediately. Delicia's labyrinth was for defense only. She had told their father as much when he sanctioned its building. There was no reason for her to have a runner within her walls.

"Stealing babies now, are you?" he asked, trying to offset his suspicion with humor. She did not rise to the bait.

"Not so much a baby anymore," she purred.

His pulse quickened. What was she talking about? His eyes searched hers, desperate for answers, but she revealed nothing. There was only the impenetrable blue of her irises, glowing faintly in the dark. "What do you mean?" he was forced to ask.

"That she's come back. To rescue you, apparently; though I thought she would have been smarter than that. Shame."

"_Who_?" he demanded, his voice wavering, his teeth clenching because he already knew. Delicia just stared for several seconds, looking at him in that way she always had. Like she could not fathom how he had survived past infancy. Then, finally, she dignified him with a response.

"Sar-ah." She said it as two syllables. Two perfectly enunciated syllables that could have brought down the walls of the oubliette for all the havoc they wreaked within him.

She was not supposed to be here. She was meant to be at home, in the Aboveground, as far from him as possible. What was she thinking coming back here? More, _how_ had she come back here? Without him she had no means of entry. Unless…_Arden_. Arden could have done it if he had somehow managed to locate her. But how? _How_? There were so many questions that rattled through him, each leaving a slice in the fabric of his mind when he realized that he did not have answers to any of them. Unaccustomed to dealing with such a fit of emotion, his frustration burst out in a most startling way.

"_That pretty little idiot_," he snarled, leaping to his feet to pace what section of the floor that he could.

Delicia's eyes widened; "Not quite the reaction I was anticipating."

"Hers is a ridiculous course of action. Surely she must see that," he justified himself. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten his sister was an adversary; he could not help but look to her for agreement.

"I certainly would have advised against it," she granted him. "Pity no one ever thinks to ask me. Though I'm surprised your first thought is of her decision making skills. I'd have thought you'd be more concerned."

"Concerned?"

"It is my labyrinth she'll be battling after all." Delicia rose from her chair, stretching languidly so that he would not see the grin that afflicted her features. He was so fun to tease.

Jareth stopped pacing. Of course he should be concerned, he thought. He knew what kind of dangers lurked within those twisting walls. The labyrinth had been built at time when his relationship with his sister was…less adversarial, at least, than it was now. He had overseen much of the construction. And the things that Sarah would have to face if she wanted to reach the castle…

"Turn her away." It was the first command he had spoken since being imprisoned. But with the force behind it, it was impossible to tell that even a day had passed since he reigned as king.

"I'm sorry?" she said through her teeth. She was giving him a chance to retract his tone. He would have none of it.

"Do not let her through your gates under any circumstances. Delicia, I mean it. Keep whatever quarrel you have with me between us."

"I wish I could do that for you. Really I do," she pressed a hand to her pale chest, over the place where Jareth assumed there was a heart. "But I'm afraid this isn't just between you and me anymore."

"_Why not_?" he roared. The sound reverberated through the cavern, bouncing back at him in various distortions that drowned out even the ceaseless ticking of the clock.

"Because she turns eighteen in three days. A legal adult by mortal standards."

Jareth glared daggers at her smirk. He did not need her to explain what that meant. The seal of protection surrounding Sarah would be broken. The forces of the Underground would be able to find her, to do with her what they willed. And he was powerless to stop it. Mainly—and he was admitting this for the first time—because he would be dead. There was no hiding the fact that she had embezzled his powers. Three years had been enough to show him that. But in three days, she would reap that power from him completely. Permanently.

And then it would be all too possible for Delicia to destroy her and claim the kingdom as her own.

"You unimaginable _bitch_," he spat at her.

"Ah, someone's catching on," she replied with soft applause. "I must admit, I was beginning to worry this place had robbed you of your wits."

"It would be indescribably ill-conceived for you to doubt me so," he warned. "I made you a promise once. I told you that if you ever thought to do her harm, I would stop you by any means at my disposal. I may not have much, but believe me when I say: if Sarah Williams comes to harm, you will know the extent of my wrath."

Silence held the two siblings at a distance as each considered the other. Jareth had made a bold move in a game he did not fully understand the rules to. He was waiting to see how she would respond.

"Your wrath," she said after a while, her tone dangerously flat. But only for a moment. "Listen well, brother. Your wrath is _nothing_ compared to mine." She snatched up the chain the secured him to the floor, tugging it taught as the leash of a hound. "I dislike these threats you seem to enjoy hurling at me. I suggest you refrain from using them ever again. Or it will be your sweet Sarah who knows the extent of _my wrath_."

Ice was creeping up the length of the chain, fracturing of in deadly points. Jareth hissed when it reached the cuff around his ankle, the metal freezing to such a degree that it burned against his flesh. Delicia held it there for almost a full minute, her teeth clenched, eyes no different than the chips of ice at her command. He was shaking under her hold, determined not to cry out, though the chill that had invaded his bones was maddening.

At last she released him, the ice thawing to drops of cool water. Jareth collapsed back onto the floor, breathing like he had run a marathon, and rubbing the tender red skin around his ankle. His sister was righting her dress, and he knew she meant to leave, but he could not let her go without trying one last tactic.

"Delicia." He called to her, his voice soft. It caught her attention. "Please, don't hurt her. She is only a mortal girl after all," he beseeched.

His pleading had the effect he was hoping for, causing her to gaze at him up and down. Now he could read the emotion in her eyes; there was shock, and bewilderment, and more than a few shares of confusion. Even in all the desperation she had glimpsed within him, she had never expected him to beg. It took her a moment to formulate her desired response. But when she did, she smiled at him. A smile which grew when he saw it and subsequently descended into misery.

"Don't worry, love. I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

And then she was gone. He was alone in the oubliette once more, the ticking of the clock somehow louder than before, but not loud enough to drown out his screaming thoughts. Disaster was impending. That was a certainty. In one way or another, the next three days would bring with them such a wave of change that more than a few players in this game would be drowned. And there was no denying that, at present, Delicia had the best hand. Which was dangerous enough for him, but for Sarah…Well, the only way she would be safe was if she gave up before sooner rather than later and relinquished her powers to Delicia.

_And, knowing how she handled my labyrinth, there is no way she is going to do that_. The former Goblin King thudded his head against the wall in defeat, hoping beyond hope that something about Sarah Williams had changed since last they met. But with the way his luck had been running lately, he did not think it likely.

* * *

**A/N: All hail the return of the Goblin King. Or, at least, what's left of him. Poor Jareth. But on the bright side, we'll be seeing a lot more of him from here on out. Which is great for me because I really enjoy writing from his point of view. **

**In other news, my Spring Semester starts up tomorrow, and I've decided to move the update day to Sundays. That will give me more time to write and edit uninhibited so that I can produce the best possible chapters. I can't promise I'll have an update ready for _this_ Sunday, but I am going to try. **

**Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to hearing about Sarah's continued exploits in the labyrinth. **


	8. The Undone and the Divine

**Disclaimer: **Alas, I still own nothing.

**Chapter Title: **from "Bedroom Hymns" by Florence + The Machine

* * *

"I just want to officially go on the record and say that this is not at all how I pictured this playing out." Will kicked at a stone on the dirt path sending it flying a few feet ahead of them.

Sarah gave him a side eye, somewhat pleased that he seemed to have forgotten his anger towards her, but still plenty annoyed that he was needling her thus. Still, his comment was accurate. To say that things had not gone according to plan was actually a hilarious understatement.

Her transportation spell was…not a complete disaster, but definitely unfulfilled. She was meant to have gotten them to the gates of the labyrinth so that they would not have to waste what little time they had. And that had been her intention. Only, somewhere along the line, her focus had slipped and their party ended up a little more than half way there. Which left them in the very position they had been trying to avoid: spending the better part of the day walking.

"It could have been worse," Sarah grumbled in her defense.

"Yeah," Will agreed, "You could have dropped us here piece by piece. I'm surprised I'm not missing any of my limbs."

"Ha-ha," she shot back. She aimed to make an unamused face at him, but a wave of exhaustion numbed her senses. The feat of magic she had performed—however unsuccessful—had still taken a toll on her. Drained to the point of collapse, her feet dragged causing her to stumble every few steps. Will had already offered to carry her piggy-back, but she refused. She had promised herself that she would try to appear strong for the goblins. Her pride would never allow her to submit to being carried.

Holding her head up as best she could, she continued down the path towards their goal. A heavy fog obstructed the view of the castle and the lands beyond, but Windle had assured her that their position on the map would lead them straight there. _Okay, Sarah, you can do this. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. _But that was easier said than done, and in a few more steps, she felt her knees beginning to buckle.

She tipped forward, her face intent upon smacking into the ground, when Arden caught her by the elbow. His grip was steadying, supportive, with none of the firmness she might have anticipated at his touch. Her head swam as she locked eyes with him, finding his gaze even more calming than his touch; an observation that confused her greatly.

"_Lean on me as a crutch, but keep walking_," he whispered to her without moving his lips. Looking around to see what was making him so secretive, she saw that the goblins had noticed her weakened state and were growing worried. She did as she was told, keeping her right arm on top of his and transferring some of her weight. As soon as she was mobile again, the goblins relaxed.

"Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?" she asked. Her voice was quiet enough that not even Will, just a few paces ahead, would hear.

Arden chuckled—actually _chuckled_—at her question. "Do you consider assisting you in walking down the road with the grace of a newborn foal to be a kind gesture?"

"You know what I mean," she replied, not letting him off the hook.

When it became apparent that she was going to hold him to an answer, Arden looked down, considering. It was several steps before he finally answered. "Firstly," he began, "And probably most importantly, because you were slowing us down. We would not make it there by nightfall if we continued on at the speed you were going."

"This is punishment for calling you nice, isn't it?" she muttered, mostly to herself.

He smirked. "Secondly, because I find you infinitely more tolerable when you're too fatigued to run that sharp tongue of yours.

"And thirdly because…I understand how important it is appear in control when others are relying on you."

The last comment made her head snap up. Of all the things he could have said in response to her question, this was the least anticipated. How was it that he was able to put into words everything she had been feeling for the last few days?

She thought back to the first time she saw him, standing in the middle of her front yard, the gusty winds of magic swirling around him. He had been as frightening and as fascinating as a god. Just like the first time she had seen Jareth. But Arden was not the Goblin King, and his guise of supremacy had only lasted so long. When he found out who she was, his whole demeanor had changed in an instant. He leaned forward like she was the one who was a celestial being. The lines of his face had softened, and, for the only time in their short acquaintance, Sarah had seen hope in his eyes.

That expression had not made sense to her at the time, but after a day trying to control a hoard of goblins, she began to understand. For three years, Arden had been the sole keeper of the Goblin City. With Jareth locked away and Delicia in permanent absentia, it had fallen to him to keep things together. He too was the bearer of responsibilities he had not asked for, and, as snarky as he was, she had never heard him complain.

A stab of guilt tore through her. Had she misjudged him right from the start? Arden could be the only one to really know what she was going through, and she had spent most of their time together in a verbal sparring match. Maybe, if given a chance, he would actually help her through this. He was here after all; it would be stupid not to make use of him. She was already leaning on him physically. Perhaps he would not mind if she leaned on him mentally as well.

"I never imagined being in charge would bring this much pressure," she started, coaxing him to see where the conversation might lead.

His eyebrows knitted together at her words, his mouth pinching in like lemon juice had just been squeezed into his every pore. "You didn't think running a kingdom would be hard work?"

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant," she backtracked, "I just didn't anticipate that it would be _this_ hard. I mean, what with everyone always looking to you to fix everything…"

Arden shook his head as though he found her to be an amusing toy that he could not understand the mechanics of. "This is why you mortals would make terrible rulers. Too little comprehension of responsibility." He patted her shoulder with his freehand and laughed to himself.

"Excuse me," she jerked away from him, "But I happen to be _very_ responsible."

"Oh? Is that the word you would use to describe a girl who wished away the infant brother she was meant to be caring for?"

"Okay, that was almost three years ago, and I totally made it up to him later!" Sarah was cursing herself for having tried to extend this olive branch. _I should have set it on fire first. _

"Tell me," Arden continued, "How will you make it up to the goblins if you fail to return their king to them?"

"I-" she began, but words failed her. Truthfully, she had no idea what she would tell the goblins if she failed to make good on her promise. Arden knew this, and was not afraid to call her on it.

"Let me guess: you hadn't thought that far ahead?" Sarah remained silent. Arden grinned. "There, you see? That is precisely the problem. You mortals live such fleeting lives that you lack the skills to adequately prepare for the future. Jareth has ruled the Goblin Kingdom for thousands of years. Whatever faults you may perceive in him, he had a plan that was to the betterment of goblin lives."

Sarah's pace slowed again, stung by his words. He was insulting and ridiculing her, and what was worse was that he was right. Her thoughts about the future did not extend beyond the next three days. She had failed to set up any kind of safety net, leaving success her only option. And it was just now that she realized how irresponsible that was.

Vexed, she gnawed the inside of her cheek. She had allowed Arden to wound her pride, but she would be damned before she let him know it. She spoke up again: "Well if the Goblin King was so great about planning for the future, then how did he let himself get captured, hmm?"

"You make a good point," the advisor calmly allowed, nowhere near as irked as she had hoped. "Perhaps I should amend my statement: King Jareth had excellent foresight into the well-being of his kingdom except when he was thinking about _you_."

Arden dropped her arm then, leaving her flat footed on the path. She stood stock still for a moment, cocking her head to the side. What did he mean by that? "Hey," she called after him. "What do you mean by that?"

But the advisor ignored her, continuing down the path at a brisk pace. Her sapped strength forgotten, Sarah jogged to catch up to him, repeating her question. He barely looked at her. "I'm sorry, but I think it would be best to store the rest of your questions for later. Considering we're _here_."

In her renewed annoyance with the advisor, she had failed to notice that, blooming out of the mist, was a solid wall of ice. It shone an electric, luminous blue underneath the clouded skies, bleak and boastful of its impenetrability. The tendrils of flowering vines were etched into the surface, as though someone had thought to make up for the utter lack of life in this frozen wasteland. Unfortunately for the innovative architect, the effect was the complete opposite. The tiny carvings—while intricate and beautiful—only drew attention to the fact that nothing so delicate had a hope of surviving in this labyrinth.

Squinting her eyes at one pattern in particular, Sarah reached out a hand to trace over it. It was familiar to her somehow, but the memory was a hazy one. As though she were looking at it through a series of blurred lenses that would only show her the truth when set to just the right angle. Her gaze narrowed further, almost to the point of going cross-eyed, when at last she caught it.

"Hey!" she exclaimed in a burst of realization. "This looks just like the leaves I wore in my hair in the peach dream." Her finger followed the lines of the carving, swirling around the silver stems.

"Peach dream?" Will quirked skeptically. Sarah looked back at him, blushing. In her various retellings of her time in the labyrinth, she had always left out that particular detour. Something about the dizzying, pulse-pounding dance she had shared with her should-be nemesis was not conducive to the image of the determined heroine that she had cast herself as. Even now, she struggled with how to describe the culmination of her adolescent fantasy.

"Yeah," she floundered, "The Goblin King gave me this enchanted peach that brought me to this really fancy party. He was trying to distract me so that I would forget about Toby and waste all of my time."

"Among other things," Arden muttered off to the side, making Sarah wonder if he was being intentionally cryptic just to annoy her.

Will glanced between the two of them, disbelieving of how cavalier they were being about this. "No offense to his highness, but that sounds…kind of creepy."

Sarah shrugged. "How do you think I learned not to take random drinks offered at parties?"

"As _scintillating_ as this sojourn into the past is, I suggest we focus on the matter at hand." Arden was looking at her expectantly, eyebrows raised as though he were inviting her to act.

"There's no way in," she said. She disliked being treated as though there were a door directly in front of her that she had failed to walk through. When, in fact, the wall was frustratingly firm.

"A groundbreaking observation," he snapped. "I was under the impression that we were here to rescue the Goblin King. A feat that will be decidedly impossible should we not make it through the gates."

"I'd be more than happy to lead the way, _if I knew where the gates were_."

Arden sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he spoke again, it was in the slow, enunciated form of a prince speaking to a pauper. "Since it appears that the labyrinth has chosen you as its muse, it would follow that you be the one to locate the door."

"Its _muse_?" Will asked. He said the word with some distaste, as though he were sucking on a piece of aluminum foil. Sarah too was curious about what the word meant, though she had a sinking suspicion.

Arden ground his teeth, seeming to force himself not to shout at them before answering. "It is a magical defense mechanism used by the labyrinth to hinder its runners. It selects a muse and draws material from that person's mind. Once it knows your strengths and weaknesses, it uses them to populate the labyrinth in the most trying ways possible."

"And it's chosen Sarah?"

"So it would seem. Though, with the attention to detail that the Queen of Beasts put into this labyrinth, I would not be surprised if it drew material from several different sources." He stopped then, turning to look at Sarah. "I assume you are familiar with this technique?"

She nodded, recalling each and every one of the bedroom trinkets that had shown up in Jareth's labyrinth.

"Well, then, since you seem to have found a reference to your time here carved in the ice, it would follow that you are the first muse."

"You're right," Sarah agreed, "But I still don't know how to open the door."

"How did you do it last time?" Will prompted, apparently back to his role as her staunch supporter.

"I had help last time," she said, her voice small. For the first time, she felt the full weight of her friends' absence. Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus…they had been so constant, so vital during her first trip. And she hadn't a clue as to what had become of them. They had promised to be there for her whenever she called and had always made good on that promise. But she had never bothered to return the favor.

_When all of this is through, you'll find them_, she told herself. Then she would make sure they knew how important they were to her.

"M'Lady, we can assist you with whatever you need," Windle piped up, puffing out his narrow chest. The goblin troops copied the gesture, showing that they were ready to do her will.

"Thank you," she smiled for them, "All of you have been nothing but helpful so far. But I don't think there's anything you can do here."

"Maybe there is," Will chimed in. Sarah looked at him quizzically; his gaze was far off in the distance, as though he could see an idea forming on the hillside. "Windle, let me borrow your axe."

"What?" she immediately burst out. Under no circumstances would she have expected a plan involving an axe.

Will gave her a knowing look. "It's just ice. It can't be that hard to chop our way through."

"Of course it can be that hard!" she blazed back at him. "It's probably magically enhanced."

"I must agree, Master William. Caterwauling our way through with a weapon is sure to attract undue attention." Arden's face was flushed from the very thought of such an undignified form of advance.

"Attention from who?" he asked as he pulled the axe back to make his first strike. But just as it was about to bite into the ice, Will gave a sharp grunt and fell to his knees.

"Ooo ha-ha hah," came a deep chortle. Sarah looked behind the place where Will had fallen, watching as a fat, hobbling beast revealed itself. It was only slightly larger than a goblin, standing upright on the hooved legs of a goat. It also had horns that curled towards the back of its head; the culprits behind Will's stumble.

"What was that for?" he griped, rubbing his back where he had been head-butted.

"Serves ya right," the creature quipped, blowing out a one note tune on a small flute. "What got in yer head to make you try that?" Will glared at the creature, finding no amusement in its display.

Sarah, however, found that she was laughing quietly. "Excuse me, but, who are you?" There was something about its presence that put her at ease.

The creature turned, its blue eyes coming to life when it saw her. "Ahhh, is she the one yer trying to impress?" It loped over to her, circling her with a roving gaze. Sarah stepped away, suddenly finding she was not so comfortable with its proximity.

Will sensed her discomfort and came to her aide. "Leave her alone," he ordered as he dusted himself off.

"Now I sees what you were so excited about. Yeh he-he hah ho."

"Hey!" Sarah reeled away as it lunged forward to place a slobbering kiss on her hand.

"Don't touch her!" Will made to kick the creature, but misjudged its speed and cunning. He tripped over its hooved foot, landing in the dirt once more to peals of laughter from his tormentor. "Ugh, Arden, what is this thing?"

The advisor had been looking on at the proceedings with all the interest of a noble being subjected to a band of performing vagabonds. "A satyr. Set to guard the gates of the labyrinth. Drunken, lusty beasts at the best of times."

"I'll say," Sarah complained as the satyr continued to dance around her.

"We had best move on and try to find another means of entry. We won't get any help from this lot."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Will replied, more than content to walk away.

Sarah was the one who lingered. Something was pulling at her as she watched the ungainly movements of the satyr. It was familiar somehow, and again came the feeling that she was safe in its presence. And she was fixed on the color of its eyes. Blue, yes, but a dull, flat blue. Except for the moment when they had first fallen on her face. Then, for just an instant, she had seen them flood with warmth, faceted with all the colors of the sea on a sunny day. She knew those eyes, and she knew that voice. She was just accustomed to seeing them in a different body.

That was when she noticed it. The thin flecks of frost that tipped the satyr's fur and dulled its eyes. It was the same substance that had coated the goblins when they were under a spell. _Can it be_? She rubbed her hands together, summoning forth the magic she would need. It was more difficult now that she was distanced from the heart of her labyrinth, but not impossible. And as her palms began to warm, she passed them over the head of the satyr, allowing the magic to trickle over it.

"Sar?" Will was the first to look back, to see what she was doing, but Sarah ignored him for the moment. She needed to see, needed to know if it was possible…

The magic clustered around the creature, swirling and clinging and transforming. And when at last it was cleared away, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that felt like the longest sigh of relief she had ever let forth.

"Hoggle!" she cried, crushing him with her embrace. She was on her knees now, clinging to his neck and weeping into the rough fabric of his shirt.

"Sa- Sarah?" he said with equal wonderment.

Sarah sniffled, trying to get ahold of herself. "I heard my friends needed me," she said simply, "So I came back."

"Oh, Sarah," Hoggle gushed in return, reaching out to prolong their hug. It was minutes before they broke apart, each satisfied that the other was really there.

"I'm so glad you're here," she told him, wiping the last stray tears from her eyes. "I don't think I could face another labyrinth without you."

The dwarf visibly tensed at that. "Labyrinth? Why would you want to go into the labyrinth?"

"Um, well, you see-" she tried to articulate.

"We're here to retrieve the Goblin King, of course." Arden stepped up, his plan to move on interrupted by what he saw as an unwelcome display of emotion.

Hoggle's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "_Jareth_? What's that rat got to do with this?"

Glaring at Arden, she sat down to try to explain everything that had happened up until that point. Hoggle listened attentively, but it was more than apparent that he did not see the logic in any of this. Sarah found that it sounded unconvincing even to her. It was difficult for her to explain why she was so intent on saving Jareth. She just knew that it was something she had to do. And there would be no rest until she did.

"So will you help us?" she pleaded, showing him how plain her need for his assistance was.

Hoggle grumbled to himself a bit, unable to ignore that the plight in her green eyes stirred him deeply. "I don't think you should be doing this, Sarah," he advised. "If Jareth is a rat, then that sister o' his is a snake."

"Oh…Okay…" she coaxed, feigning disappointment.

"But…since ya need me," he took her hand, then, and pulled her to her feet.

"Thank you, Hoggle," she exclaimed and planted a kiss on the top of his head. Both were pleased when it did not land them in the Bog of Eternal Stench.

"As touching as all of this is, it does little to further our quest," Arden sighed.

"I think I can help ya there." Hoggle waved his arm at the wall of the labyrinth, causing a hiss of steam to seep out. And with it, the door to the labyrinth swung open.

* * *

"Does anyone in the royal family actually understand what the word 'labyrinth' actually means?"

Sarah's complaint was rhetorical, but it did not keep the question from nagging at her. To her, a labyrinth meant turns and dead ends—a deliberately confusing series of walls intended to trap its occupants. But they had been walking for more than an hour, and no such options had arisen. There were only a series of switchback turns that forced them to traverse back and forth while gaining very little ground. It was exhausting. Not to mention maddeningly futile. At the rate it was taking them to snake through the channels of the labyrinth, it would be years before they made it to the castle.

Adding to their troubles was the fact that passageways they were navigating were extremely narrow. At times to the point that she had to slide through going sideways, the frigid walls biting at her from both sides. This, combined with the fact that there were fifty plus members of their party, made for very slow going indeed. She wished over and over that, for once, things would turn out how she expected them. And then she would remind herself, once again, that things were _never_ as they seemed in this place.

"Do we have any way of knowing how long this goes on for?" Will called forward. He was several places back, behind both Hoggle and Arden. The latter turned to answer.

"Regrettably, no."

Sarah exhaled through her teeth. Here she was, already a disappointment to the people following her. Something needed to change. She would do anything to get things moving, to regain their faith. And at that precise moment, something up ahead caught her eye.

It was white, blending in almost perfectly with the scenery. If not for the tiny flecks of black, she might never have noticed it. But it fluttered across her line of vision, sending her heart racing and blood pumping to her extremities. One hundred feet ahead, perched on a rivet in the labyrinth's wall, waited a beautiful snowy owl. As Sarah watched the bird, its head swiveled around to face her, revealing two golden eyes that stood out starkly against the plain background. It blinked at her twice, then twisted its head and took off in flight.

"Wait!" Sarah called, breaking into a sprint without warning. She heard Hoggle shout in surprise, but there was no time to explain. The bird was soaring away from her at a considerable speed, and she had a difficult time keeping track of it while she ran. But run she did, though why she could not say. There was no indication that this owl held any answers for her, or could help in any way. Again, Sarah had only a feeling, but for her it was enough to go on.

By the time they were approaching the next turn, she had gained a considerable distance on the bird. She would be able to catch up to it just around the corner…

Her heart sank. By the time she rounded the corner, the specter of a bird was gone, disappeared into the hazy snow where it belonged. She kicked at the ground, screaming to herself in frustration. She had been so close, so certain that the owl meant something. With slumped shoulders, she turned to back her way back to the group, there was a block of ice in her way. Coils of panic worked their way through her system as she remembered the proclivity labyrinthine walls had for spontaneously changing. If she could not make her way back to her friends, she would have truly failed them.

She pounded on the thick sheet with a fist. "Will, Arden, Hoggle?" she shouted, hoping that her voice carried through. It was another minute before they caught up to her, Will arriving at the front of the line.

"_Sarah_," he roared, beating at the ice. When he saw that it was pointless, he called out to her instead. "_Are you alright_?" he asked, his voice distorted by the plane between them. As it was, she could only see a faint outline of his face.

"I'm fine," she answered. _Just an idiot who left everyone behind so that she could chase an owl_, said her bitter thoughts.

"_Okay, we'll get through to you soon. Just hang in there._"

She nodded her head, though she was certain he could not see it. Will was right; she just had to stay calm until they could figure a way out of this. There was no use in letting fear get to her head. She hugged herself, running her hands up and down her arms to keep warm. It felt colder now that she was alone. She tried not think about what would happen if she was trapped here until after dark. But still, the words 'frostbite' and 'hypothermia' were singed across her brain.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath.

"Yes, you do seem to have gotten yourself into quite an awkward situation."

Sarah spun around, pressing her back to the wall in an unavoidable reaction of alarm. Standing before her on the once empty path was a woman. She stood absolutely still, and for a moment Sarah believed that she might have been a marble statue. Her skin and features were flawless enough. But there were sparks of color at her lips, eyes, and cheeks that asserted her as being wholly alive.

There was no doubt who it was that she was facing. The Queen of Beasts was just as enchantingly beautiful as her brother, but with all the polished mannerism that he lacked. She did not slouch and lean against the labyrinth's walls, but stood tall and statuesque. Pouring out from a gold embroidered bodice was a river of satin and silk in the deepest shade of emerald that Sarah had ever seen. She was radiant, and daunting, and sensual all at once, and though Sarah also schooled her features to hide her fear, she was more concerned about disguising her awe.

When the Fae woman realized that she was being inspected, her face lit up with a dazzling grin. "Hello, Sarah," she purred. Her voice was as honeyed and colored as a fairytale storyteller, with a wickedly velvet undertone that leant just the right amount of darkness.

Wasting no time in her response, Sarah inclined her head and said, "Delicia."

The smirk on the other woman's face grew. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you. A shame we didn't get a chance last time."

"It is," Sarah agreed, determined to hold her own. "Unfortunately, I was rather short on time."

"My darling brother's fault as usual. But it's no matter at all now that we've met." She moved forward then, the train of her dress bleeding emerald streams behind her, reaching out as though to pinch her cheek. Sarah flinched away.

"Is that the only reason you're here? To introduce yourself?" Much of this was not adding up. Delicia had not met her with threats, or time limits, or any other means of manipulation. In comparison to her first interaction with Jareth, she seemed like a ray of sunshine. But there was a devious chord being struck within all of this. Sarah intended to tread carefully until she could figure out what it was.

"What other reason might I have?" the Fae asked in return. She tilted her head to one side, her blonde curls tumbling, looking far too innocent.

Sarah's face stayed neutral, not buying in to the show she was putting on. "I don't know. Maybe to find out why I'm here."

"You're here to extract my brother, are you not?"

"…Yes," she answered carefully. She wary of Delicia's knowing tone. Now that she was sure of their mission, would she try to stop them?

"Moving on then." With easy confidence, she turned her back, running lithe fingertips over the ice walls. "There is one thing I want," she stopped, glancing over her shoulder, "And that is to help you."

"To help me?" Sarah edged. She was certain now that danger lurked beneath the waves of this placid conversation. She would have to tread carefully if she wanted to make it out unscathed.

"I can let you through to the next phase of the labyrinth…" Delicia expertly dangled her carrot, "But you have to send your goblin guards back to the beginning."

Sarah blinked in surprise. It was a tempting, if not risky offer, and more generous than she had been expecting. But could she take it? It would certainly save on time. Time that she had already wasted when she screwed up the transportation spell. She looked back towards her friends, still sealed off from her by the sheet of ice. Would they want her to take this chance? To gamble with their safety by sending their guards away? She wished that she could ask them. That she could talk it over with them if even for a minute. But she couldn't. This was a decision she had to make on her own.

She was on the point of saying no, of using some very colorful language to tell this woman exactly what she could do with her ridiculous offer, when her eyes detected something being tossed to her. Instinctively, she cupped her hands to catch it, finding that it was a crystal. And the image inside was of Jareth.

His eyes were shut, though she could tell that he was not asleep. His features were tensed, the lines of his face standing out. He was thin. Frighteningly thin. Thinner than could ever be healthy. Her throat clenched at the sight of him, and all she could think was: _This is my fault. This is what my victory did to him. He is dying, and it will be on my conscience. _

And, once again, the inexplicable need to save the Goblin King made her decision for her.

"Alright. I accept your deal."

Delicia gave a smile that narrowed her eyes—a particularly avian expression—and slipped the crystal from Sarah's grasp. "Excellent," she said as her image began to fade away.

Once she had disappeared completely, the ice wall melted away, revealing a very confused looking Will, Arden, and Hoggle. At that moment, Sarah could not bear to look at them, let alone tell them how and why she had allowed Delicia to influence her. Instead, she fixed her attention on the future as the next phase of the labyrinth spread out before her.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so basically I wrote all of this in a single day. Which, in retrospect, was probably a bad idea, as I feel that my writing really declined towards the end. But I wanted to get this chapter out, so here it is. **

**Jareth will be back for more fun next chapter, and we'll get to see our heroes tackle some interesting tasks in the labyrinth. **

**As always, thanks for the faves and reviews. You guys all rock (insert subtle Ludo pun.) **


	9. Tying Your Tongue in a Knot

**Disclaimer: **I still own nothing.

**Chapter Title: **from "The Rifle" by Alela Diane

* * *

Jareth stared, hypnotized by his own crystals as they spun around in his palm. He had all but given up the practice of juggling them; perpetual hunger had robbed him of the focus required. But he still had just enough energy to summon pictures. And today, the image that he called forth was of Sarah.

The vision was hazy, and almost never showed a full picture of her. Most of the time he caught only her shuffling feet or the back of her head. But even in the incomplete depiction, he could see that, exempting a few minor physical changes, she was very much the same. Still unwavering in her dedication to her task, still perpetually optimistic. How was it that nothing ever daunted her? For thousands of years labyrinths had been seen as a strong deterrent against all kinds of attacks. Armies had been disbanded at the sight of them. Yet here was this mortal girl who plowed through as though she were out for an evening stroll. Her prowess was loathsome and fascinating in equal part.

_Is that why you can't take your eyes off of her_? His inner voice was asking, much to his dismay. He raged against it. He could stop looking at her any damned time he pleased. It was simply that, buried deep in the bowels of the oubliette, there was not much to look at. And now, after three long years, things were finally becoming interesting again. He had never been in the habit of denying himself, so why should he make exceptions now? No, if he wanted to keep track of her progress, then that is exactly what he would do.

She was wandering through various hedges now, the dead branches stacked so high he doubted she could see anything but the tallest peaks of the castle. He frowned for her. It would be difficult to proceed that way, with so small a vantage point. Though he did not think for one moment that that would stop her.

He would have been content to continue assessing her progress, had he not sensed a shift in the air. He sighed, "I thought we agreed to put an end to these little 'visits.""

Delicia put on a pout as she walked over to him. "I agreed to no such thing. You must have imagine it."

"Woe to my wishful thinking," he groused. She ignored him, instead darting forward to snatch the crystal from his grasp.

"Now, what have we here?" she asked in a mocking tone. It rolled across her palm with deft precision, coming to halt only when she chose to look into its depths. "Spying, brother?"

"If you must know, yes," he admitted as nonchalantly as possible. In reality, he was quite perturbed that he had allowed his only real form of distraction to be taken, but he knew better than to whine about it. His sister fed on tears as though they were rare delicacies.

"She really is a spirited little thing, isn't she?" Delicia's voice dropped an octave, as though she were really pondering the thought, and not just saying it to goad him. It gave him the opportunity to look at her without fear of getting caught. He was looking for something—_anything_—that might clue him in to what she was thinking. But there was nothing to discern. Whether she was plotting murder or contemplating dinner plans, he would never be able to say. She was a book of elegant bindings filled with nothing but blank pages, and Jareth found himself wondering if she felt anything at all.

Despite his inability to decipher her mysteries, he did notice something peculiar. "Why is your hair up? Your hair us never up," he spat as though her change in hairstyle was personally offensive.

She raised an eyebrow at him, perpetual in her surprise at his shifting moods. "That's not entirely true," she chose to remind him.

"You only wear your hair up when…"

"Go on," she coaxed languidly, "Finish that sentence."

"When _Father_ comes to visit." His chest was tight as he said it, half from despair and half from longing. Though, as the feelings spread throughout his body, he was reminded that those emotions were not really so different.

A part of him had always questioned if his father knew exactly what Delicia had done with him, if he was aware of the full extent of her cruelties. He was unwilling to believe that the man who had sired him, raised him, would cast him aside so easily. But a larger part of him doubted he even cared. It was the troublesome persistence of hope made him believe that his father might actually be concerned for him. He was his only son, after all. His first born. And, up until his removal from office, he had been his heir. Surely that suggested some degree of sentiment. A point of softness, if not outright affection. Maybe enough to render a pardon?

"Should I be expecting a visit from him, then?" he asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Delicia did not look at him. "He's already gone."

What little hope there had been died away, fickle as a memory that had really been a dream. He could not say why, but he was overcome with the urge to pursue this line of questioning, futile thought it was. Maybe he wanted to be certain that his chances were as bleak as he already knew they were. Maybe he wanted to wound himself just for the sake of it.

"And he knows I'm here?"

"Of course he knows," Delicia snorted. "He even thought my choice of venue was appropriate. You're quite easily forgotten when you're locked down here, did you know that?"

"Then why do you keep coming back?" he snapped at her, more than fed up with being treated like the village idiot. He was not expecting a reaction from her, but one presented itself.

It lasted only a moment, a flicker of some long lost emotion crossing her face. He sat up a bit straighter when he saw it, squinting at it as though he might have been mistaken. But before he could determine whether it had truly been there or not, her face reverted to its mask of flawless porcelain.

"I am here because Father asked me to observe you. He wondered if, perhaps, in your years of solitude, that you had come to your senses concerning the poor girl."

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth."

Jareth did nothing to hide the flaring of color to his face, nor the pulsing vein in his forehead. She was laughing at him. Mocking him really. He could handle any number of torments at her hand, but not this. He would not suffer to be made a fool of. When again he spoke, it was through clenched teeth. "Would it be at all feasible of me to ask what exactly I have done to procure the intense dislike of my only remaining family members?"

"Don't play the fool, Jareth," she told him, "You know as well as anyone why you've landed yourself here."

"I assure you I do not." His voice was cold, gravelly, doing little to disguise his barely suppressed rage.

Her eyes hooked on his then, searching, refusing to let go. "You really don't understand, do you?" She shook her head and huffed out a laugh. "Though I suppose it makes sense. I don't know why I'm surprised, really. It's not as though you were _ever_ there for Father's lessons."

"I was home often enough to absorb his lectures," he tried to interject.

"No, you were not," she rejected him. "You dropped in when it was convenient for you, and left when it was convenient for no one. Cavorting around the kingdom singing songs and throwing parties. At least I bothered with some scholarly pursuits."

"So modest, sister," he spat at her. He would not let her see that he was squirming against the wall, her tirade bearing a bead of truth. "You always were Father's favorite. Do tell us again of your conquests as the golden child."

"Father's favorite," she snickered. "Yes, I suppose I am. But it's not as though you made it a difficult choice. All I had to do was apply myself, to reach for the heights of my own ambition. To consistently exceed his expectations.

"But do you want to know a secret?" She waited a moment until she was certain she had his attention. "Father would have happily gone to the grave years ago if you had put forth half the effort I did. But you chose to let yourself be distracted. You reveled in it, I could tell. So don't pretend that you resent being the family disappointment, when we both know you wouldn't want it any other way."

When she was finished, all either of them could do was stare across at the other. Jareth could feel the layers of tension rolling off of her, keeping him at bay. And, on further reflection, he realized that this strain had been there for as long as he could remember. They were separated by years of grievances allowed to pile up over too many centuries. And neither of them made a move to bridge the gap. They had picked at each other's scabs so often that now all that was left were scars in the shape of the other's teeth. And one thought rang again and again through Jareth's mind, drowning out even the sound of the clock: _What have we done to each other_?

"Is that why you're punishing me, then? Because you're angry with me for besmirching the family name?" he asked, speaking quietly, his voice all but detached from his body. He could not let her see that he still bore untainted skin; vulnerabilities left that she could exploit. It was one of those crippling detriments of having a sibling, of sharing a childhood with someone you grew to hate. She knew, possibly better than anyone, the best and deepest ways to cut him.

"Punishment?" she questioned, rolling the word across her tongue, examining its flavor. "Who said anything about punishment?"

"Is that not what all of this is about?"

"Oh, Jareth," she hummed, "Poor, sweet, _confused_ Jareth. This has nothing to do with punishment. This is about _winning_. About showing Father that he was wrong to have had hope for you. That I will always be the one to succeed where you have failed."

"And you're going to do this by killing a defenseless mortal girl?" he sneered, knowing his father would not be impressed by so small a feat.

But his sister only laughed again, delighting in the things she knew that he did not. "Oh, my dear. I'm not just going to kill Sarah Williams, I am going to _destroy_ her. She can delude her way through the labyrinth for as long as she likes; she'll still tire eventually. And when she does, she'll come crawling to me, begging for relief.

"And then…I'll let you see her just long enough for you to release your last strains of power to her before I decimate you both."

"Get out," he breathed, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him frightened. For once, he was able to lock his emotions away as easily as she did. His imperfect eyes revealed nothing, only staring her down as though his gaze alone could force her from the room. And for once, she listened, tossing him the crystal once more and disappearing from sight.

The moment she was gone, the weariness returned to his face, his whole body seeming to deflate. His sister was going to destroy him. The thought was not as surprising to him as he would have liked. They had always been competitive with each other, even in their youth. Often he had imagined that the only way their lives could end was at the other's hand. So, in a way, he had expected this moment to come. What he had not expected was that he would drag Sarah down with him. That he could not accept.

He had to find a way to stop her. As much as he wanted to believe that his father would stop this outrageousness before it could get too far, he could not be certain. He needed an alternate course of action, one that would allow Sarah to keep her life. And the only way that would be possible was if she were to return to the Goblin City and barricade herself deep within the walls of the castle. There, where her power would be at its strongest, she would be safe. But how could he convince her to go back when he was locked in this prison?

From deep within his clenched fists, the crystal began to glow. Sarah's image returned, this time showing her ear as she tucked a strand of hair behind it. For one desperate moment, he prayed that she would turn her head so that he might catch a glimpse of her eyes. But then she faded away again, the crystal returning nothing but his own, inverted reflection.

And as he continued to stare into it, he grinned. A plan had come to mind.

* * *

Sarah was utterly certain that they had passed the same hedge an hour ago. Certain because most of the others, though characteristically wonky in shape and structure, were flat across the top. This one had a distinct silhouette, curving down in the middle like a giant horse shoe. It had to be the same one.

_Of course, _her mind countered, _the other one had more twigs sticking out of it. _

She shook her head to clear it, aware that she was beginning to think in circles. It had to be the same hedge. Twig quantity had nothing to do with it. Though, the more she thought on it, the less certain she was that that was a good thing. She should not want it to be the same shrub. That would be an indication that they had somehow looped back around. That all of the progress they had made was not actually progress at all.

Futility was not an experience that she handled well, even in the Aboveground. She had always hated taking science classes, sure that they had no bearing on the success of her future. Now, the chance that they could have been walking all this time while never drawing closer brought her to the point of stomping her feet and throwing a tantrum. If they were still in the same spot, then what was the point of continuing? They might as well have plopped down and stretched their tired legs for all the distance they had covered!

"Oh, this is impossible," she groaned, throwing her head back.

"Don't you go talking like that, missy," Hoggle shook a finger at her. "That's my line." In spite of herself, the dwarf's words did bring the hint of a smile to her face.

"Besides, we've actually gotten closer," Will chimed in. He was pointing a triangular object at the horizon, one eye squinted closed so that he could focus.

Sarah cocked her head, curious. "How do you know?"

"I've been tracking it," he said, calling her over. She approached, allowing him to adjust his contraption so that she could look through it. Up close, she could see that it was made of sticks tied together with bits of grass. "You see the outline of that tower way out there?" he asked, pointing. "Well, an hour ago, that tower fit inside this triangle perfectly. But now, look, it's bigger."

Sarah looked. She held the twig contraption at arm's length and squinted through it, just as Will had done. And, sure enough, the edges of the tower extended beyond the range of the twigs. They were getting closer.

"Marvelous," Arden exclaimed, glancing at it from over her shoulder.

"Cub Scouts," Will shrugged with a half-smile.

"_What_ Scouts?" the advisor questioned, appalled.

"He'll explain later," Sarah intruded, incensed with purpose once more. "We need to keep moving."

They continued on their chosen path, Hoggle with his lumbering gait, Will with mindful steps, Arden with strides of purpose. And Sarah. Sarah with her brisk, confident pace. They were on the right track now, and she felt her old assurances coming back to her. She could do this. She could lead the way through traps and twists and turns just as she had last time. In fact, she was more than happy to do it. This was where she excelled, where she could meet challenges head on. Nothing like in the Aboveground, where things always seemed determined to complicate themselves in ways that she could not sort through.

But she did not want to think about that. She was happier focusing on the positives. _Hoggle is safe and here to help, we've made it through one stage of the labyrinth already, and now we're getting closer to the castle. Things are finally looking up. Except…_

"Ugh, what is that _smell_?" Will groaned. His voice came out thick and clogged, as though he were trying to speak without breathing.

The olfactory assault hit Sarah an instant later, making her nose wrinkle with the putrid heat of it. Her first thought was of the Bog of Eternal Stench, but quickly rejected the notion. That had been a smell like…Like…Well, she had never actually come up with an accurate comparison for what it was like. But what filled the air around them now was something familiar, if only in a vaguely recognizable way. And, as they rounded past another set of hedges, she saw why.

The path had become clogged with bones. They were gathered in small piles, some picked clean, some with scraps of rotten meat still clinging to them. A suspicious lack of flies or other insects left the stench to linger all around them, heavy, like a cloud that had descended to the earth. Sarah fought waves a nausea as her eyes lingered on the decay that littered the ground, taking care not to step in anything. But even in her caution, she miss-stepped, a shard of bone cracking sharply beneath her foot.

The sound caused a yellow head to pop up amongst the carnage, and what Sarah originally thought to be another carcass transformed into the living, breathing body of a sphinx. For several seconds, all she could do was stare at the creature, so fearsome and merciless in her beauty. She possessed the noble features of a woman with golden eyes that swept across her face with feline pointedness. Beneath her slender neck and wild, copper hair, she bore the body of a lioness. Finely corded muscle swelled beneath her tawny coat as she stretched out with the ease of a house cat. It was only the needle-like claws that identified her as a predator. In a gesture that was foreign to her, but which felt instinctual, Sarah reached down and grasped the hilt of her sword.

"Who goes there?" the sphinx crooned, stepping down from her skeleton throne to circle them.

It took Sarah a moment to find her voice. "Um, hello. I—that is _we_ are trying to get to the castle. Could you help us?" A shiver ran up her spine as the sphinx's tale brushed against her shins.

"Sure," the beast replied. "But I'm afraid you'll have to do something for me first."

"Oh. Like what?" she asked, praying that it would not be something that ate away at their time.

"Like answering my riddle."

Sarah frowned, glancing at her friends. A riddle was sure to be a confusing form of trickery. And it was different than the liar's paradox she had faced last time. Whereas then she could use logic to solidify her answer, a riddle was open to interpretation. There was nothing to check it against, and, looking at the spiked points of the sphinx's paws, she did not want to know what would happen if they interpreted it wrong.

"What do you guys think?" she asked them, not at all certain enough to make this decision on her own.

"You're asking us?" Will asked, surprised.

"Yes, I'd like your inputs," she responded, wincing a bit as she became aware of how consistent she had been in her exclusion of others in the decision making process.

Will bit his lip, considering. "I don't know…This seems risky. I don't think we should take the chance if we can find our way there on our own."

"Don't do it, Sarah," Hoggle agreed. "Sphinx's are tricky beasts. You should never trust 'em."

She nodded, more than halfway to the point of agreeing with them. She would need just one final confirmation for the choice to be made. "Arden?" she prompted, watching the pristine advisor as he watched the sphinx with intense focus.

"Do it," he breathed, finally turning to look at them.

"_What_?" the three party members yelped, almost in unison. The shock of Arden doing anything even mildly impulsive was enough to render them speechless, their mouths hanging open despite the loathsome smell.

Sarah was the first to recovery. "What do you mean 'do it'? Riddles leave everything up to chance, and if there's one thing I've learned about you, it's that you don't like taking chances."

"You are correct in your assessment," he granted, "But the fact remains that a beast as grand as a sphinx would only be set to guard an important part of the labyrinth. If we've run into her already, it must mean we're on the right track."

"But- But-" she stuttered. His response was so unexpected that her brain was struggling to keep up.

"Come now, you're moderately clever. Surely something as simple as a riddle could not deter you." Her jaw set, recognizing his words as both a challenge and a compliment. The latter amazed her, but the former was what made the decision for her.

She addressed the sphinx once more. "If we answer your riddle, do we have your word that you'll show us the way to the castle?"

"But of course," she purred in reply.

"And if we answer wrong?"

A smile stretched the sphinx's face, revealing rows of fanged teeth. "Then you'll help my garden grow." Her tail twitched, swinging back and forth to point at the stacks of bones.

"Alright," Sarah gulped, "Let's hear it."

The sphinx spoke:

"With my help, you can escape without a key

I'm weightless, but you can see me.

The more you move, the more I grow tighter

Put me in a bucket, and I'll make it lighter."

The riddle seemed to ripple around them, disturbing the air like a pebble dropped into a pond. For Sarah, it brought with it all the panic of drowning. She did not know the answer, was struggling even to remember the lines in the right order. Why had she chosen to listen to Arden? Screw the fact that he was meant to be her advisor, the man was clearly on a mission to make her life as complicated as possible. In a last, pleading attempt, she looked to Will for assurance, for the balance he had always provided her.

He saw her unspoken question, of course, and his mouth set in a firm line. "I have no idea," he said, first to her and then to the sphinx. The beast smiled again, her teeth flashing.

"Sarah…" Hoggle whined from her side as the sphinx prowled closer. The distress in her friend's voice was enough to bring her hand back to the sword. She would not allow her friends to become a meal without getting a few swings in first, of that she was sure. But the grizzly turn of her thoughts was broken by a soft chuckling, one which took her a moment to place.

"Clever," Arden laughed, "Clever indeed." The sphinx's expression fell to snarling.

Sarah rounded on him, her eyes wide with the promise of renewed hope. "You know the answer?" she cried, her exuberance startling even her.

"It's not so difficult, really," he chided her. "Think at it. Make an effort to answer." Intrigued, she fixed her gaze on the ground, allowing her mind to go blank. With Arden proving competent enough to answer, she was all the more eager to solve it herself. She began picking it apart line by line.

"_With me, you can escape without a key._" That could be any number of things. Toby had recently grown fond of locking doors, and she had learned to pick locks with everything from hairpins to paper clips. Keys were certainly not essential to escape, especially if you had the patience and persistence to try. What tripped her was the next line.

"_I'm weightless, but you can see me._" The riddle grew more complex with this addition. The only weightless thing that she could think of was air, but it was impossible to see air. Perhaps it was something more abstract? Like…love? Love could be considered weightless, and it could be seen when looked for. But could it aide in escaping without a key? Possibly, she supposed, but she did not think it likely that Arden had come up with an answer as schmaltzy as love. She moved on to the next piece.

"_The more you move, the more I grow tighter_." She had no idea what that could mean. Something that grew tighter with movement? All that came to mind was the absurd notion of an Ace bandage. On the point of giving up, she looked to the final line.

"_Put me in a bucket, and I'll make it lighter_." This was the part that made no sense. You could not add two things together and hope to subtract the weight. It defied the founding principles of mathematics. One plus one would always equal two, and two would always weigh more than one.

_Unless the thing being added would also subtract from it. _The thought came to her in a sudden rush of clarity. And then she was all but jumping up and down with excitement. "Oh. _Oh_!" she squealed, looking at Arden, who smiled in response.

"What is it?" Will asked, him and Hoggle still in the dark.

"It's a hole," Sarah said, her eyes narrowing on the sphinx's. "A hole can help you escape without a key, it doesn't have any weight but you can see it, if you move too much you could stuck or it could collapse, and if you have one in a bucket, whatever you're carrying will pour out."

"Well done," Arden praised.

"Indeed," the sphinx hissed. She swept aside the largest stack of bones, revealing the way through. And Sarah's shoulders slumped. The riddle was exceedingly appropriate. From between two slabs of rock, a narrow hole gaped like a mouth ready to swallow them.

Sarah crouched down before it, finding that it was just wide enough to accommodate the width of her shoulders. They would not be able to crawl on hands and knees as she had done to get to the heart of the labyrinth. No, here they would have to scamper along on their bellies using elbows and knees to push themselves along.

Stomaching fear, she poked her head inside to get a closer look. The passage was lit, the walls seeming to exude their own, unseen, light force. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw that, instead of the stone walls she had been expecting, the hole was lined with wallpaper. It was maroon in color, embellished with tiny gold fleurs-de-lis. And, with building dread, she realized that she recognized it.

"I think the labyrinth has chosen its next muse," she said as she pulled herself out again. Her eyes saw past the other's locking on Will's and pulling him forward. He approached with caution, sliding his feet as though the ground might collapse from under him at any moment. It took only one glance into the hole for him to see what she meant.

Sarah had only visited Will's house twice before. Their friendship was built in the outdoors, where nothing could trap them. His house was the opposite of what they craved, tight and dark and disorderly on most days. And the hallway lined with this particular wallpaper was the worst of all. It was in the direct line of sight of the front door, stretching towards the back of the house. At the end was the door to his father's office, eternally closed. It was distorted from the length of the hall, tiny but long at the same time, and Sarah had always felt as if she were looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope.

"I can't go in there," Will said, adamant as she had ever seen him. He was looking down on her, not with stubbornness or disobedience, but with fear. His eyes begged her not to send him in there with such potency that her chest actually began to cave in on itself.

"Enter here and find your way to the castle, or stay and help my garden flourish," the sphinx said, stretching her long neck towards his ear.

"Master William, I must insist that you forestall these complaints and allow us to press forward," Arden urged. Prolonged company in the presence of the sphinx was beginning to make them all wary.

"You don't understand, I _can't_ go in there," he ground out, hazel eyes glowing bright with panic.

"Why ever not?"

"Will has claustrophobia," Sarah answered for him, looking at her hands. She knew how hard it was for him to admit, how much he detested having it in the first place. He had not even told her until six months into their friendship when, in a game of hide and seek with Toby, he had refused to enter their small attic to look for him.

"My dad used to lock me in the hall closet whenever I misbehaved. Sometimes he'd forget about me, and leave me in there all night. I've been scared ever since." Will looked at everyone and no one as he said this, his gaze spectral and unfathomable.

"You never told me that," Sarah said in a small voice. He had never offered explanation for his fear, and she had never pressed him about it. Only now did it occur to her that she should have.

Will gave her a sad little smile. "I don't always tell you everything."

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but no words came forth. What could she say? There was not an apology in the world that could cover what she was asking him to do.

"We have to move," Arden urged again, this time breaking past them to begin his descent through the tunnel. Her eyes swiveled wildly as she watched his legs disappear, caught now between following his course of action and giving Will the time he needed to adjust. It should not have been a difficult decision; Will was her best friend and he was asking for her support in exchange for his. But she could not cull the part of her that longed to follow Arden through to the other side.

"Eh, Will?" Hoggle's voice broke through the swell of her dilemma. She shifted her attention to the dwarf as he fumbled with his shirt sleeves. "I dunno if Sarah told ya this, but when I helped her through the labyrinth the first time, I was a big coward."

She managed to smile of affection at her friend. "You weren't so bad. All you needed was the proper motivation."

"Well, that's just my point," he countered, turning again to Will. "It's hard to be afraid when you have no other choice but to be brave. Sometimes there's just things ya have to do."

Sarah was warmed by the dwarf's astute advice, and pleased to find that he had not reverted to his old ways in her absence. She looked next to Will, hoping the words had a positive effect on him.

"I know all of that," he muttered, contemplative. "And I know there's no other way through. I just…I can't help what I'm afraid of."

"I know you can't," she told him as she grasped his hand. "No one can. But Hoggle and I will be with you the whole time. We'll help you through this." _Just like you've been helping me_, she wanted to add, but didn't.

He squeezed her hand once, his face clenching in a way that suggested he was already regretting his decision, and nodded.

Hoggle went through first, his stunted legs kicking as he tried to propel himself along. Will approached the entrance next, crouching into position. He looked back once before entering. "You'll be right behind me?"

"Right behind you," she promised, squeezing his shoulder. Breaking free of her touch, he ducked his body into the tunnel.

Sarah waited until his feet had disappeared before crawling in after him. As daylight disappeared from overhead, she got a good sense of how Will had developed such an intense fear of closed spaces. It was like being squeezed through a straw. The walls applied a near constant pressure on her from various angles, scraping across her back and stomach. There was barely enough room for her to take a full breath. Trying to clear that thought from her mind, she focused on the bottoms of Will's boots just a few feet in front of her. He was doing well, moving through the passage with as much as speed as the space would allow. She could picture him, eyes squinted shut as he tried to imagine being anywhere else as he forced his way through the earth.

They had been moving along for about a minute when he came to a dead stop. Sarah halted after him, her way blocked. "Will?" she called forward, attempting to look ahead to see what was delaying him. The only response was a series of rapid, wheezing breaths. "Are you alright? Hoggle, what's going on up there?"

"Ohhhh, he's stuck," Hoggle called back in distress.

"Can't…breathe…" Will gasped, his throat making a light whistling sound as he hyperventilated.

"Will, you're not stuck. I'm right here, you've got plenty of room to move," she cajoled back at him, fighting the rising tide of her own panic. She pressed on the bottoms of his feet, trying to prompt him onward, but succeeded only in making things worse.

"Let me out of here," he began screaming. "Please…please…please let me out!"

"It's okay, it's okay," she shouted back, "We're going to get out of here, you just have to move." Try thought she might to soothe him, there was no reasoning to be had. Wherever Will's mind had taken him, it was far from this hole in the ground, though infinitely as dark.

_What have I done to him_? She worried as she spewed forth a string of apologies that were drowned out in the swell of his screaming. Just when she was on the brink of breaking into tears herself, she heard Arden's voice break through the noise.

"Look at me, William, look at me," he was saying, his voice as measured and authoritarian as it always was. It brought pause to the chaos. "Now, tell me what is wrong."

"Need…to get out. Don't…leave me here." His voice shook, each waver bringing a stab of pain to Sarah's chest.

"We are, we are going to get out of here. But to do that, you must focus on me and nothing else." Sarah found herself listening to his words as well, drawing from them the calm she needed. But with it came a twist of insecurity deep in her gut. She had not been able to get them through this hell hole as she had promised.

Under Arden's guidance, Will began to move again, allowing her to follow. The advisor offered constant words of encourage, always remaining calm and steady. It was another minute before the light of the outside world appeared a head of them, bright and enticing as a miniature sun. Will all but clawed his way out, swallowing gulps of fresh air like a man who had been drowning for one hundred years.

Sarah emerged last, collapsing on the ground beside Will as she too got control of her breath. And with each exhaled, she whispered out, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry."

* * *

Pine trees tipped in frosty white inhabited the third phase of the labyrinth. In the dying light, they sparkled faintly; a beautiful sight for any who stopped to appreciate it. But Sarah's party did not. They trudged through, barely aware of their surroundings at all.

They were able to put in one more hour of walking before the sun sank below the horizon and they were forced to make camp for the night. Since making it out of the hole, Will had adopted stony silence, lingering at the back of the group with Hoggle. The dwarf had proved a comforting friend for him, talking in order to fill the quiet. It stung Sarah to see them to together, knowing that Hoggle was doing more to help her friend than she was. But then again, she seemed to be the only one unable to help when she was needed.

Her broken promise weighed on her heavily. It was not so much that others had succeeded where she had not, though that hurt enough. What worried her most was that, if she were incapable of getting through a small tunnel, how was she supposed to save the Goblin Kingdom? They would be awaiting her return back in the city. How would she explain going back empty handed? If Will's present attitude was any indication, it would not be a warm welcome.

When at last they settled down in their makeshift camp, Will was still going out of his way to avoid her. Not that she blamed him. He had been through a traumatic experience, and he had done it so that he could continue to support her on a journey he had not asked to go on. She probably would have hated him too if the situation were reversed.

Fully prepared to wallow in her guilt, Sarah volunteered to take first watch while the others slept. No one protested, hunkering down against the bouquet of saplings and searching for sleep. For some, it came easily. Hoggle had given himself over completely, snoring with abandon. He made a comical picture, even against the backdrop of the darkened forest. Arden too seemed to have nodded off, his back pressed against a tree trunk so that he remained in a seated position.

Will's breathing was the only one which lacked the even rhythm of sleep. Sarah sank down beside him, rubbing her hands together to warm them. For quite some time, she did not say anything. She just sat beside him, letting him know that she was there and that she was sorry. After a while, he seemed to get the message and rolled over to face her.

"Why are we here?" he asked without preamble.

The question caught her off guard. What was he talking about? He knew perfectly well what they were doing here. Though she had a sense that that was not what he meant by the question, she answered in the only way she knew how. "We're here to rescue the Goblin King and return his power."

"_Why_?" he pressed further. His face was placid, yet firm. He was not going to let her weasel her way out of answering.

"Because-" she stuttered, "Because it's my fault he was taken, and I'll feel very guilty if he dies."

Her words came out in a rush that did nothing to change Will's expression. If anything, his features hardened. "You're lying," he accused. "And I don't know why. But you are."

"I-" she began, uncertain if she was going to try to defend her statement or not. But she was spared the conflict when a soft humming buzzed its way through their camp. She sat up, focusing on the sound. "What is that?"

They both rose to their feet, Will going around to wake the others, Sarah searching for the source of the sound. She caught it in a glimpse of moonlight just as it grazed past her foot. It had rolled past her in an instant, but she knew—unequivocally—what it was.

_What is a crystal doing way out here_? She wondered as she followed the path it had traced through the snow. The shuffling footsteps behind her told her that the others were coming, and, emboldened by their presence, she picked up the pace. Her mind had been consumed with the single-minded task of catching up to that crystal. It must have sensed her fascination because it began to speed up, forcing her into a jog. She was winded by the time it finally came to a stop, but it was not until a moment later that her breath truly caught.

Reaching out from behind a tree was a gloved hand, surprisingly elegant and achingly familiar. The crystal wasted no time, hoping up into the outstretched palm. With the orb firmly in hand, the rest of the figure emerged from behind the tree, white teeth shimmering in the moonlight.

Sarah had imagined this moment many times over the course of the last few days, trying to picture what she would say. She had crafted several nuanced responses that she thought might work well, but in that moment, all that came to mind was: "You glittery _asshole_!"

The Goblin King's smile only stretched further. "Hello, precious."

* * *

**A/N: Mwahahahah. Yes, I am being slightly evil and making you all wait a week to see the full extent of this glorious reunion. Forgive me. **

**This is the longest chapter yet, and I'm pretty pleased with it overall. The sphinx's riddle was fun to write, as were Jareth and Delicia's continued prison interactions. It was also interesting covering Will's claustrophobia as I myself have struggled with a specific phobia since I was six. (Though I've never had claustrophobia, so I hope I got it right.) **

**Alright, I think I'm going to go make Mac n' Cheese now. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and let me know what you think!**


	10. See You When I Fall Asleep

**Disclaimer: **The rights to Labyrinth and its characters belong to Jim Henson.

**Chapter Title: **from "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men

* * *

"_Hello, precious_."

His voice was drawling, sensual, everything she had remembered it to be and a whole slew of things that she had not. It worked its way through her slowly, the way sunlight took its time to sink through the layers of clothing. And for all the hours she had spent imagining their reunion in her head, for the life of her, Sarah could do nothing but stare. She was as wide eyed and open mouthed as she had been in the ballroom, half disordered and half overwhelmed by the intoxication of his presence. Everything about him was utterly singular. From his untamable hair to his imperfect eyes that seemed always to look into her rather than at her.

Hung in the precipice of suspended belief, it did not occur to her that this was not how he should look. The hallowed creature within Delicia's crystal was but a shadow of the dynamic figure which stood before her now. But she pushed the thought aside, her tongue finally catching up to her brain.

"Jareth. What are you doing here?"

He smirked at her, delighting in her trepidation. "Well, I'd heard you'd maybe a triumphant return to the Underground. It seemed rude not to drop in and say hello."

"But- But you're supposed to be locked away in the castle!" she stammered. "How can you even be here?"

He had opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, the rest of the group caught up to them. "Majesty!" Arden was the first to exclaim, bowing his head in respect.

"Arden," the Goblin King nodded his acknowledgement to his advisor before turning back to Sarah. "Glad to see you two have met."

"I wish I could say the same," she grumbled, her previous question forgotten. Her friends had arrived with rather inconvenient timing.

"I'm sure the feeling is mutual, pet," Jareth chuckled at her, raising an eyebrow at Arden in search of agreement.

The advisor was more than happy to oblige. "She's a horrendous companion most of the time. Headstrong and smug at the worst of it. The best I've come to hope for is half of her attention at any given time."

"That's not fair!" she cried, only afterwards realizing how gravely she had misspoken. "I mean, you barely know me," she back tracked before Jareth's grin could spread any wider.

"On the contrary, I'd say that's quite an accurate description." Jareth laughed under his breath in a way that brought her blood to an absolute boil. Who was he to poke fun at her? She was the one who had dropped everything to help him. He should be doing nothing short of falling on his knees and praising her generosity. Instead, he was laughing at her.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Sarah's hand reached for the sword at her side, unsheathing and brandishing it in one smooth motion. Jareth's eyes widened at the gesture, but he looked more amused than frightened. As she moved towards him, Arden made to stop her, securing an arm around her waist.

"My Lady, this is highly inappropriate behavior," he snapped at her, taking on the burden of embarrassment that she was more than willing to bestow.

"Let me go, Arden," she snarled in response. "I'm not going to kill him, I'm just going to smack him around once or twice."

Jareth's eyes absolutely twinkled in response to her fury. It gave her the necessary impetus to twist out of Arden's grasp and raise the sword overhead. Incensed and unthinking, she aimed so that the flat of the blade would strike against his collar bone. She doubted it would damage him, but perhaps it would hurt enough to prove that she did not take well to his quips and barbs.

But just before she could make contact, something unexpected happened: the sword passed through him. Her downward arc continued through the air, uninhibited by its intended target, and plunked into the earth at his feet.

He sighed as though the whole display had left him thoroughly unimpressed. "Regrettably," he spoke, "I'm not actually here in the physical sense."

Sarah blinked from his face to the sword and back again. Still half in shock from her unsuccessful and increasingly humiliating display of temper, it was difficult for her to discern what he meant. Sensing her confusion, he took the barest amount of pity on her and produced the crystal that had led her there. Allowing it to spin in the palm of his hand, he waited for her to catch on. He found it rather satisfying to watch as she pieced it all together, her eyes snatching at the crystal, reading its meaning and sparking with understanding.

"It's magic, isn't it?" she half-smiled. "This isn't the real you, just the crystal's projection of you."

"Very good," he allowed, tucking the orb back within the confines of his shirt.

_How could I have missed that_? She scolded herself. She should have known the moment he appeared. He was meant to look bedraggled and near starvation, but instead he was as vigorous as the day she had met him. Which would only make sense where magic was involved.

"There you have it," Arden mused, "She can be perceptive when her hot-headedness doesn't get in the way."

"Humph," she growled and stomped a foot at him.

"Again, a more than accurate appraisal."

"Hey, you two can't talk about her like that," Will piped up, pushing past Arden.

"Thank you," Sarah sighed, glad to have someone on her side for once.

"All of those things are true," her friend continued, "But you don't get to make that call after only knowing her a few days."

Sarah groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. She was beginning to question why she had ever agreed to associate with these people. Jareth, meanwhile, was looking at Will with the same degree of disgust that he had shown towards the plastic bracelet she had given Hoggle.

"Who is that?" he asked, verging on indignant.

"This is Will," she answered, finding some hesitation in her tone. It had not occurred to her that Will and Jareth would ever meet, and the prospect made her uneasy. For whatever reason, the two did not coexist well in her mind. "He's here to support me on my journey to save your royal ass."

Ever the perceptive king, Jareth picked up on her reluctance. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Sarah. You should know better than to bring a boyfriend to a king's party."

Sarah found herself blushing, fighting the juvenile urge to denounce Will as her boyfriend. Which was probably what Jareth expected and intended with the jibe. But, rather than give him the satisfaction, she pointed the conversation back at him. "Why? Is the great and powerful Goblin King _jealous_?"

"Me? Jealous?" he asked, insulted by the idea. "I'd sooner be jealous of Higgup."

"_It's_-" Hoggle began before resigning himself. "Oh, what's the point?"

"Quite. Though it is excellent to see you again, Hogbog."

"Yeah, yeah," the dwarf grumbled, unaffected by the less than sincere sentiment. Sarah was equally unpleased with the turn of conversation. She had hoped to gain some semblance of an advantage over the Goblin King. But, sly as ever, he had slithered his way through her intended trap.

_Why is he so infuriating_? She thought with clenched teeth. Of all the trials she had faced in the Underground, the Goblin King was undoubtedly the most challenging and the most frustrating. In many ways, he was as twisted and complex as his labyrinth, always eager to tease, eager to intimidate. But she had solved the labyrinth and beaten its king once before. By her own utterance, he had no power of her. And she would rather start her journey all over again than let his ingenuity surpass hers.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sobered, calm. He grinned at her again, hoping to break through the cracks in the façade that she was putting forth. But Sarah held firm. His amusement faded.

"I am here to tell you that you need not continue on this foolish quest. That you should return to the Goblin City _immediately_," he intoned, leaning dangerously close to her.

Sarah did not as much as flinch. "Hah!" she exclaimed, "Like that's going to happen. Sorry, Goblin King, but I've come too far. You're getting rescued whether you like it or not."

"And what if I have plans to rescue myself?" he posed, succeeding this time in making her take a step back. What was he talking about? As far as she knew, he had been effectively imprisoned for the last three years. Why was he just now trying to make an escape?

"I don't trust you enough to consider that a smart course of action," she decided on saying. "If you screw it up, I'm stuck as the next goblin monarch. And I don't want that."

"Really?" he challenged, stepping closer once more. They were nose to nose now, separated by only a few inches and the unspoken trial of wills that waged between them.

"_No_. I _don't_," she spat back.

"Interesting," he hummed, as though contemplating something deeply. Then, without any warning, his head snapped up, the moment all but forgotten. "Well, I do wish we could continue this conversation, but I'm afraid I can feel myself fading. I fear it's time to return to my solitude."

"What a travesty," Sarah mocked, showing she could be just as pitiless as he. A flicker of a smile crossed his face, like she somehow held the key to his fascination. It faded before she could identify what it was, but the ghost of it lingered with her.

He turned back to the rest of the group. "A pleasure to see you all, though I rue the circumstances."

"Majesty," Arden responded, bowing once more.

Jareth looked him up and down. "I hope you know that I'm holding you responsible for this expedition. You would be wise to convince her to turn back."

"Noted," the advisor nodded, keeping his gaze lowered.

"Good." He addressed the group once more. "Gentlemen, dwarf, _Sarah_," he breathed, "I bid you all good sense in the days to come."

"Oh, keep your well wishes," Sarah rolled her eyes, "We were doing just fine without your advice."

"I had no intention of suggestion you weren't. But, should you ever need me," he began before leaning forward to whisper in her ear, "_Find me in your dreams_."

With that, he faded into the night, gone just as suddenly as he had appeared. And Sarah was left to scoff at the curious, tingling sensation his words had left with her. It was annoying more than anything, and she found herself wishing she could have slapped him for real.

"Bastard," she cursed under her breath, before turning back to the others. To her surprise, they were all starring at her, their eyebrows uniformly raised. "What?" she snapped at them, perturbed by the sight of their plain shock.

Arden was the first to recover. "Nothing, nothing at all," he replied, self-satisfied. "I think I'll go try to catch a few more hours of sleep, if you don't mind."

"Fine," she agreed. "Anyone else have something to say?"

"Nope, nothing from me," Hoggle babbled.

"It's not important," came Will.

Satisfied as she could hope to be, Sarah marched back to her post and sat down to finish her turn. Though with everything that was now weighing on her mind, she was regretting having volunteered to take first watch. Her thoughts were frayed, and it frightened her to have lost control of herself in such a way. Jareth had teased out of her a different kind of fury. Not one that could be channeled into something useful, but one which was chaotic, and turbulent, and beyond her ability to subdue. And feeling that unidentifiable rage boiling just below the surface, knowing that he was the cause of it, worried her.

It was not that she did not know how to deal with her feelings. She was not fifteen years old anymore. It was that she was not precisely sure what her feelings were. After three years of silence, the Goblin King had come sweeping back into her life. And though his last remaining strands of magic had allowed him to appear unchanged, everything else about their interaction was different. She was not afraid of him anymore, and she did not know how else to act around him if not afraid.

But one thing she could not hide from herself was that she wanted to see him again. He was interesting to her, interesting in the way a slice of cheese on a mouse trap was interesting to the mouse. Even if it was not afraid, it could still sense the danger, and it was cautious as to its form of approach. After all, only the cleverest of mice could get the prize without the consequences. She would need to be very calculating indeed if she hoped to hold her own against Jareth.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, she barely noticed when Will came to sit beside her. He did not complain about being ignored, but instead just sat there and let her think. He was familiar with her enough to know that she would speak when ready.

"What did you think of him?" she asked in her own time.

He breathed out a little laugh, but did not look at her. "He was…taller than I imagined."

"Taller?" she laughed along, looking up at him.

"Yeah, you know, I always pictured a Goblin King would be short and stumpy."

"You do know I'm the next in line for that position, right?"

"Exactly my point." He gave her a playful shove to show he was kidding. "But honestly? I can see why you were so obsessed with him as a kid."

"I was not obsessed with him!" she complained.

"Sarah."

"I wasn't! I—I had a perfectly normal level of curiosity about an adversary who played a prominent role in my adolescence."

"Whatever. What I'm saying is: I get it. He's an unique guy—Fae. Larger than life, and all that. The perfect fantasy for a kid like you."

"Alright," she put on the brakes, "Let's never again discuss my childhood fantasies, okay? Ever."

They were quiet for a while after that, content to let the silence stretch and the snow fall. But somewhere along the way, Sarah sensed that he was working up the strength to speak, and for some reason the prospect made her nervous. When at last it happened, she refused to meet his eyes.

"Sarah, can I tell you something?"

"Sure," she replied, the tips of her ears burning despite the cold.

"I just wanted you to know…I care about you a lot. Like, a lot, a lot."

"Ok…"

"And I know you don't feel the same way, and I'm not trying to force you to feel anything that you don't. I just…didn't want to be a coward anymore." He stood, squeezing her shoulder once before walking away.

"Will," she called after him, making him turn back. "I'm sorry I made you come here."

He shrugged. "I guess we're willing to do anything for the people we care about." He was gone then, and she could not find the courage to go after him.

_I'm the coward, not him_, she mused to herself, shouldering the full weight of her self-loathing. _What is it about this place that brings out this side of me_?

It would have been easy to blame the labyrinth. It was an unforgiving place, and it required a specific kind of mental fortitude to make it through. She could not afford to let her personal relationships stand in the way of their progress. But still, it was a uniquely cruel person who allowed their friends' feelings go unacknowledged for progress's sake. She did not want to be cruel, but still she could not find it in herself to follow him, to force them to talk their way through this.

_I'm too tired to deal with this_, she made excuses for herself. Repeating this enough times that it began to seem true, she let her eyes grow heavy. And in no time at all, sleep claimed her. With sleep came dreams, one after another. They were strung out in a multitude of rows before her like the repeating images reflected between two mirrors. An endless procession of visions that vied for her attention, lining up to wait their turn for control of her mental space.

The things she saw were random, bearing no connection to her thoughts or experiences of late. A distant part of her wondered why that was, but a more dominant side was too restless to care. She allowed her dreams to carry her through, watching as her life in the Aboveground was summoned up from her subconscious. She saw life at home with her family, serene and content. Her father and Karen stood over her shoulder as she filled out college applications, beaming with pride at their budding businesswoman.

Will appeared too, standing by her side the night of their junior prom. They posed for an endless parade of cameras, Sarah dressed up in puffed sleeves and the gaudy metallic material that Karen had insisted brought out her eyes. But in every shot she looked as stiff and posed as a Barbie doll put on display.

Next she saw one of a hundred days spent sitting on her front porch, gazing out at nothing in particular. She glimpsed the way her lips pursed in deep thought. Thinking, thinking, always thinking. Why did she think so much? It had never made her any happier. In fact, all it really did was make her wish for things that could never be. And she had learned long ago that wishing for things was a very poor way to go about life.

With that thought, the loop of dreams around her condensed down to one, and she again found herself in the presence of the Goblin King. He was still smiling, though he was not quite as vivacious as he had been the last time. His face was a bit narrower than before, his clothes drowning him out as though he were nothing more than a hangar. He was somewhere in between the king she had known and the sorry creature she had seen in Delicia's crystal, and she wondered if he was there by means of his magic or hers. She was not sure which she would have preferred. It was strange seeing him look this way, so far was he from himself. But even in his weakened state, he still managed to greet her with easy confidence.

"Back for more, Sarah-mine? I must say, I'm pleased to have made such an impression."

She let out a breath, relieved that he at least had enough to strength to act the part of the Goblin King. "Don't get too cocky," she warned, "I only brought you here so that would could finish our conversation from before."

"I'm not one to complain" he shrugged. "Actually, I prefer to speak with you within a dreamscape."

He took the chance to glance at their surroundings, Sarah's gaze following his. She noticed for the first time that they were back in the Fragments Room, the place where she had defeated him. The significance of it took her aback for a moment. "Why is that?" she asked warily.

"You have only limited control over your own dreams, which means you're far less likely to—I don't know—attack me with a sharp objected," he explained. "Though I _must_ say, you do handle my sword exceedingly well."

Sarah fought the raging blush that threatened to overtake her, the effort leaving her with ugly red blotches along her neck. "Behave," she scolded through her teeth.

"Of course," he apologized, looking appropriately admonished. "I believe you have questions for me?"

"I do." She relaxed now, pleased that the meeting was back on track.

Jareth too looked content, crossing his legs as though he reclined on his throne rather than against a disembodied rock arch. "Let's hear them, then."

She nodded, taking a deep breath before diving in. "Are you okay?"

The Goblin King stared at her, brows furrowing into a look of consternation. "Am I _o-kay_?"

"Yes," she reiterated, "Are you alright, wherever you are? Is your sister treating you well? Are you at death's door?"

It all came out in a rush. She had not meant to start with such a personal question, but as soon as she had opened her mouth, it had come pouring out of her. Perhaps her return to the Underground had brought on more stress than she had anticipated. Guilt was an unpleasant emotion, one which grated against her with much persistence. She was still wallowing in the after effects of the incident with Toby. It pressed and pressed at her, and she would do anything to ebb the flow. Even inquiring after the Goblin King.

He took it in stride, bantering back at her. "Oh, Sarah…don't tell me. Are you _concerned_ about me?"

"Shut up," she asserted herself, refusing to be mocked. "We're…_friends_. I think. I don't know. Maybe not friends. But we're something. And since I'm the reason you're in this mess, and I'm the one who has to deal with the guilt if you die, I'd like some reassurance that I'm not wasting my time here."

He was quiet for quite some time, intrigued enough by her words to mull them over. "I am…enduring," he said at last. "The food is terrible, and the company's even worse, but I've managed to survive thus far."

"But you won't for long. Not unless I can return your powers before my birthday."

"Correct," he hissed in response. She could tell that the reminder had stung him, and she was all the more sorry for it. She reached out to him, wanting to grasp his hand, but restrained herself.

"I'm so sorry, Jareth," she shook her head. "All of this happened because of me. Because I made that stupid wish."

His jaw clenched as though he were fighting the urge to agree with her and denounce her for all the harm she had caused. "It is not _entirely_ your fault." He looked up at her, giving her the smallest suggestion of a smile. She beamed in return, captivated at having broken through his harsh exterior. Try though he might to come off as the dark, dangerous Fae king, when he smiled he was beautiful. Magical.

Desperate for the moment to last, she attempted to joke with him. "I guess you're right. We should probably blame your sister too. No offense, but she really is a bitch."

The effect of her words was immediate, his face darkening once more. "_Mind your tongue_," he scolded her, truly harsh for the first time. It was evident that she had misspoken, but why she could not say. Was he offended by the language or the insult itself?

"Sorry," she murmured, taking a step back from him.

He noticed the gesture and had the grace to soften his features. "As am I. Forgive me. Perhaps you should move on to the next question."

Squaring her shoulders at him, she asked the question at the forefront of her mind: "How are you planning to escape?"

There was a beat of silence, then he volleyed back, "Why should I tell you?"

His sharpness made her shoulders slump. Just like that he had slipped back into the guise of the Goblin King, manipulative and obstinate. She let out a sharp exhale. "I thought you agreed to answer my questions," she attempted to reason with him.

"I recall no such agreement."

"But you- Ugh, forget it, you're impossible," she seethed. "I thought I used to be a brat, but you—you take the cake!"

"Sarah," he admonished, "What incentive could I possibly have to reveal to you my intended method of escape?"

Her mouth flapped open, intent on crafting a clever response. But none came to her, and she was forced to settle with, "I thought we were friends. Friends don't keep secrets from each other." The words felt hollow, even to her. Especially knowing the present nature of her friendship with Will.

"Friends? Did I agree to that too? My, I must have been paying very little attention."

He had again succeeded in stealing words from her. Why was he so intent on turning things on their heads? It took her a moment to reorient herself and form a response. "So you're saying we aren't friends?"

He leered at her, as though he were enjoying a joke that only he was privy to. "Sarah. We have never, nor will ever be friends. Friends are opposites, they balance each other, make up for the other's shortcomings. They're different. While you and I…why, we're two sides of the same coin."

The entire time he had been stalking closer to her until they were once again at odds with each other. Sarah found herself inspecting every element of his face, from the too-sharp planes of his cheekbones to the curious deformity of his pupils. Everything except for his mouth. That was dangerous in more ways than one.

"I'm nothing like you," she challenged.

"Oh really?" he queried. His level of amusement worried her; he looked as though she had stepped just where he wanted her to. "Tell me, sweet Sarah: What are _you_ doing here?"

She blinked at him, completely unaware of where he was going with this. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he purred, "Why are you here in the Underground, set on some misbegotten attempt to save me?"

"I told you, I'm here because I feel responsible for your misfortune and guilty about your impending death." She spoke with her feet firmly planted, never breaking eye contact. As though the slightest falter would cause everything to come crumbling down.

And, in a way, it did. "I can tell when you're lying, precious."

Sarah still held her ground, but her confidence was flustered. Will had called her out on the same issue. Was she really so mistaken as to her motive that she was lying even to herself? No, that she would not believe. She knew what she was doing here. She just had to convince Jareth.

"Well maybe I'm here for myself then," she began again. "Maybe I just want to prove that I'm still capable of outsmarting the labyrinth."

"Closer, but ultimately wrong again."

She was growing frustrated now. How dare he tell her what was right and what was wrong in her own mind? He was not the master of her intuition. "Yeah?" she bit at him, "And just what the hell makes you such an expert?"

"You forget that I've seen into your dreams." His voice crackled in her ear, burning through her until her pulse began to pound. "Do you want to know what you're really doing here? Why it is that you're so desperate to save me? It's because you're frightened. I've seen the life you're leading in the Aboveground, and while I'm less than impressed, _you_ are scared out of your wits. Because you know what will happen once you leave this place. And so do I. I can draw it all out for you perfectly. Shall I?"

"Don't-" she tried to argue, but he continued.

"You'll leave home and live in a boring college dorm, and get a boring degree in a subject you hate, and find a boring job sitting at a desk all day. And when you can't stand the monotony for another instant, you'll marry that unwitting boy you've dragged along with you. And maybe you'll be able to convince yourself that that life is enough for you. But deep down, you and I will both know that it's not even close."

She had to turn away from him then. Her composure was too rattled, pushed too far past her breaking point. It was enough to make her lower lip trembled and her fists clench. She thought back to a time when he had warned her that he could be cruel, and she knew it to be true.

"You're a monster," she venomously accused.

He was nonplussed by her display. "Yes, I suppose I am a monster of sorts. And do you know what the most terrifying sorts of monsters do? They tell the truth. And that, dear Sarah, is why you and I will never be friends. Because that is the one thing friends are too afraid to tell you: the _truth_."

"So what if it's the truth? Huh?" she shouted. "Why does any of it matter? I'm still mortal. I still belong in the Aboveground." She meant it to sound final, to end the argument for good. But Jareth had already prepared his rebuttal.

"But you don't want the things other mortals want. You want the Underground. You want to save me, so that I can save you too. But you don't have to do all that. Just go back to my castle and wait for me to come to you. Then you can have everything you desire. You want magic? I'll give it to you. Because you know that anything less will never be enough."

She looked at him again. Really looked at him. He was poised above her, striking and domineering, but still she felt no fear. More than anything, what she felt was surprise. He knew her well. Sure, he'd had the advantage of rooting through her unconscious mind, but some things he would have had to put together himself. He had discovered something within her that she had kept lock away, afraid of its power to overtake her.

She was scared. Scared of what would happen if she failed and scared of what would happen if she didn't. Everything he had said was a truth she was unwilling to face, and a part of her was thankful that he had dragged it out into the open. She needed to see it, to not be afraid to look at it, or else he would forever use it against her. But in pointing it out to her, Jareth had made an unforeseen mistake. In forcing her to acknowledge her fears, he had diminished their power over her, allowing her to really see the truth. It was a mistake he had made before; one which had allowed for her victory. And now, she would use it to win again.

"You know, Jareth? You're right. I am scared. But guess what? You're scared too. I know you just as well as you know me, and I can see how terrified you are. I don't know why, but you are. You pretend to be some proud, pompous king, but that's not even close to who you really are. So you want to trade truths? Here's one for you: I'm not going back to your castle to play the princess in the tower. I'm going to beat the labyrinth, and I'm _going_ to rescue you. Whether you like it or not."

Jareth's eyes blazed back at her. Snarling with indignation, he made as if to reply, but Sarah stopped him. She would have the last word. That much power would always be hers. Stepping to the edge of the platform in the Fragments Room, she tipped backwards and let herself fall.

She awoke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright as soon as her eyes had opened. The sky was pale with the first hints of light, signaling the start of a new day. For the first time since her arrival, it did not feel like a bad omen. Like time was slipping away from them. There was only the promise of imminent success. Gone were her worries, her insecurities in facing her task. She was ready to conquer whatever was in her path. No one—not Jareth, or Delicia, or all the beasts in the kingdom—was going to stop her.

* * *

**A/N: Holy. Dialogue. Seriously, this has got to be the most dialogue I've ever crammed into a chapter. I mean, we got cocky dialogue, awkward dialogue, double entendre dialogue. It was all over the place.  
**

**In other news, the writing of this chapter occurred amidst a minor earthquake and the biggest rain storm I've seen all year. The universe was not ready for the Sarah/Jareth reunion, but I hope you guys found it entertaining. I know not much happened plot wise, but we'll get back to that next time. **

**Also, we're rapidly approaching the halfway mark, so please review and tell me how you're liking this story. I live on feedback, so don't be afraid to speak your mind. And, as always, thanks for reading. **


	11. Friends with the Monster

**Disclaimer:** I still do not, nor have I ever, owned _Labyrinth _or its characters.

**Chapter Title:** from "The Monster" by Eminem feat. Rhianna

* * *

Blisters had formed on the bottoms of her feet, her hands were numb with cold, and Jareth's face refused to leave her mind. The razor's edge of his smile slashed through her with every breath, riveting her with a constant buzz of sensation. He was everywhere she looked and never where she expected him. A glint off the snow sent her heart racing as she again remembered the particular brightness of his gaze. She grit her teeth at it as she slogged her way through the snow. No one should be able to make such a striking impression so quickly. It was as though he had not left her at all, but rather retreated to a far corner of her brain and made a permanent home there. Like the worst of all habits. And no matter what she did, she carried him along with her.

Not that that was so different from the first time. Even her self-absorbed teenage mind had had a hard time ridding itself of the Goblin King. He was simply too prominent a figure. For months he had lingered in her dreams, sometimes as a villain, but more often as an ally. In her dreams he could be whatever she wanted him to be, and it had long been her desire to place him amongst her friends. In the context of her imagination, she found that she liked him, that his devious nature could even be amusing. On particularly dark occasions, she even found herself wondering if she had made the wrong decision in rejecting his offer. He had held her dreams at his fingertips, had promised that he would give her whatever she desired. Had she been foolish to refuse? It was just one of a thousand repeated questions she had been asking herself since she had returned.

Luckily, there was not too much time to dwell on any of them, as the direction of their travels had taken them between rocky mountain passes that were tricky to navigate. Sarah had come close to spraining an ankle on one of the ice slicked rocks before they'd learned to crawl over them on hands and knees. And where there were no rocks, the snow was as deep and treacherous as a river. In many places, it sank her all the way to the hip with no indication that she had actually reached the bottom. She wondered if, given the proper density, she could disappear beneath the powder and go on falling forever.

But no matter how difficult the trek was for her, it was much worse for Hoggle. The unfortunate dwarf often found himself up to the nose in the stuff, his clothes completely drenched from his repeated submersions. Sarah did her best to help and comfort him, but he grew more frustrated by the hour. It did not help that they were being followed by a small gaggle of Brownies, the mischievous creatures more than eager to laugh at their every misfortune. She could hear them snickering as Hoggle once again removed his shoe to dislodged a cluster of ice.

"Cheeky gremlins," Hoggle grumbled, taking a menacing step towards them so that they scattered.

"I know this is hard for you," Sarah replied, waiting beside him, "Thank you for being here."

"Oh, it's no trouble really," he said, bashful. "Someone's gotta make sure you stay out of trouble."

She smiled. "Always so concerned about me."

"Well, that's my job. We're friends, right?"

"Right," she confirmed. Though he did not know it, his words were exactly what she needed. It was comforting for her to know that, even as the world felt like it was being turned upside down, some things remained the same.

"Good. And, ah, Sarah?" continued Hoggle, looking a bit more than bashful now.

Her brows lowered in concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I uh—I just wanted to make sure that, what with Jareth coming back around and all…" he trailed off, glancing at his feet.

"Hoggle, whatever it is, I wish you'd say it," she pressed, both eager and anxious to hear what he had to say.

"I just want to make sure you're careful about him," the dwarf spoke in a rush.

"Oh," was her uncertain reply. She could not say this turn of conversation came as a surprise, but she was unaccustomed to such directness from Hoggle. He tended to draw out his speeches a bit more, disguising his true meaning under layers of gibberish. She had to remind herself that the cowardly dwarf she had met on her first trip really was no more.

"I know you're here to rescue him," he continued on, "And I'm not gonna be the one to stop ya. But remember: he's still a tricky little rat who'll pull the wool over yer eyes if ya let him."

For a moment, all she could do was nod uncertainly. What Hoggle was saying was all too true. Before anything else, Jareth was a trickster. A masterful one at that. She would not easily forget the way he had manipulated her dreams to make her forget about Toby. If she tried hard enough, she could still remember the feeling of his fingers working through the coils of her brain, filling it with fantasies and blocking out all memory of her bouncing baby brother.

In her years away, she seemed to have forgotten that fact. The Jareth of her dreams had taken precedence over the real thing. It would be unwise of her to forget that—hidden beneath the chrysalis of outer beauty—the Goblin King could be quite nasty.

_But then, so can you_. The thought rose, unbidden, and with a strike of such potency that she almost spoke it aloud. What was going on with her head today? It was as though her thoughts were being conjured up by their own accord with no consultation from her. And at that moment, another memory began itching its way to the surface. Something Jareth had said… "_You and I are two sides of the same coin_."

Why had he said that? As unfavorable a comparison as it was to her, it would be even worse for him. He was not the type to lower himself to the standards of a mortal. No, he could not truly have meant what he said. But still…There was a part of her that wondered. Wondered if maybe he wasn't so wrong after all.

_Stop it, Sarah, _she scolded, _You can't seriously believe you have anything in common with the Goblin King._

But she did, and the more she thought on it, the more it made sense. Their mutual stubborness…that she had no problem accepting. It was only the more subtle things that gave her pause. Like the way they both sought to present themselves as proud and self-assured even in dire circumstances. As if they would rather die than let the other see them in a state of humility. And their tempers. That was certainly a terrible thing when roused. They could both be a fearsome opponent when the situation called for it. Matched, perhaps, in the standards of immorality they were willing to sink to when faced with an obstacle.

It bothered her that so many similarities were at her fingertips, but not nearly as much as it should have. Instead, it made everything seem very possible. What was a great and terrible labyrinth to two people whose determination was just as strong? There was nothing that could daunt her so much that she gave up, nothing that could make her cower like a child under the covers at night. She could charge ahead, claw her way through sleet and snow even as the ice splintered under her fingernails, and make it to the castle by dawn. The only thing stopping her was the one thing that separated her from Jareth, the one thing that he would never have.

Her friends. She could not leave her friends behind even if it meant a swift victory. Will, who had not wanted to stay, who had denied her nothing, and who'd had all of his armor stripped from him. The cold air around them must have clung to him with even more bite, frayed and raw as he was. And Hoggle. The grumpy old dwarf was her childhood come alive again. She could never abandon him when he wanted so much to be at her side. But neither could she delude herself that she might be better off without them. They had come to a dangerous place, a place that was as far from a childhood kingdom as could be. Here there were things that, in spite of conscience, in spite of sympathy, needed to be done.

She looked to Arden then, knowing that he too had recognized this plain fact. He had probably accepted it from the very beginning. Arden could be counted upon to do the hard thing even if it was not easy, even if it was not kind. He would still do what needed to be done for the sole reason that it was necessary. As she watched him, she caught his cool gray eyes and read the hard resolve there, the pitiless drive that propelled him forward. And she knew that, even as he could be counted upon, he could not really be trusted. _No more than Jareth could_.

"Thank you, Hoggle, I'll remember that," she responded finally. She reached down to place a hand on his shoulder. The gesture felt oddly empty to here; as though she were touching nothing more than a marble statue of someone she once knew.

Her confirmation made him perk up a bit more. "Good. And don't you worry, Sarah, we'll get ya to the castle in no time."

"Of course we will," she said with more assurance than she felt, "Piece of cake."

A scream broke through their conversation, causing both of their heads to snap up. Birds exploded from the heavens in fright as a pile of snow transformed into a moving creature of fanged tooth and nail. For a moment, all Sarah could do was marvel at it. It was at least the size of a grizzly bear with a lumbering gate and hulking shoulders. Pale as the snow itself, it blended in perfectly with its surroundings, allowing it to lie in wait for the opportune moment of attack. And now that time had come. With a wide sweep of its arm, it had knocked Will and Arden to the ground as though they were no more than a pair of dolls with sawdust joints. In an instant, it had will pinned to the ground, flecks of drool falling into his face as the beast snarled its fury. Shouting madly for help, Will tried to shove its massive head away from his throat.

"I've really got to stop saying that," Sarah muttered as she drew her sword, "Hey!" The beast immediately turned its attention towards her, its ivory fur standing on end. It let out a tremendous roar as it took sight of her, the reverberating sound enough to make her take a step back. It was a formidable creature, truly, with slanted yellow eyes and horns that curved back into a dangerous points. And in her hesitation, it stomped forward, feigning attack. She raised the sword overhead, ready to strike down, but the beast moved first. With surprising speed for its size, it lunged at her, tackling her to the ground and pinning her arms.

The sword slipped from her fingers, and she cursed under her breath. Many things seemed to happen at once then. She could hear someone shouting her name, though there was no time to bother with who it was. The thick tusks of the creature were intent on finding their way into her skull, and if she did not make a move soon she would be crushed as easily as a grape. With adrenaline coursing through her veins like battery acid, she began kicking at the beast's stomach, determined that she, if she were to die here, it would not be without a fight.

Though her attempts were feeble, they were enough of a distraction to keep her alive. For the moment. The beast growled at her ineffective blows. Keeping her firmly rooted to the ground, it raised its hind leg high above her own, the pad of its foot at least the length of her calf. She could see what it meant to do, how her toothpick legs would snap under such force, and she shut her eyes against the pain. But the blow never came. Her eyes peeled open.

Being flung back and forth as he struggled to secure his arms around the creature's neck was Hoggle. He had somehow managed to climb up its back and had provided a considerable enough of a nuisance to warrant attention. The beast was shaking its head furiously in an effort to throw him off, and the dwarf's saucer-sized eyes looked down at her, begging her to get out of the way. Recognizing his entreaty, she rolled over and over, having just enough time to pull herself out from under them before the beast succeeding in ridding itself of Hoggle, who, mercifully, landed in the soft pile of snow beside her.

Maddened by the resourcefulness of its prey, the beast turned its attention back to Will, who had only just managed to regain his footing. Even at a distance, Sarah could see how wide her friend's eyes as grown as he stood, frozen, as their attacker hurdled towards him. There was perhaps twenty feet of distance left between them, and Will showed no signs of movement. He only flinched as the beast raised a fist above its head.

Unaware of what entirely it was that she was doing, Sarah began to dig through the snow, searching for something to halt the onslaught. There were only seconds left, and she was on the brink of desperation, when at last her hand grazed what she was looking for. Her fingers were so numb she almost missed it. But she forced her knuckles to clamp around it, and pull the sizeable rock from the snow. Her movements were disjointed from the cold, but her aim did not falter. The rock struck the beast on the back of the neck, diverting its attention. Its yellow eyes blazed as though all the heat that was absent from the land instead resided in those baleful golden orbs. It was only when it lurched back towards her again that she realized she had failed to plan beyond her immediate counterattack.

"_Sarah_," Hoggle whined, frightened.

"Uhhh," she stuttered in response. A thousand useless things ran through her head then, each as unhelpful as the last.

_Don't run away from an animal attack. Hold your ground, and make yourself big. Aim for sensitive spots if you get caught in a fight. Try to pluck out the eyeballs. Get down on your knees and pray that Jareth miraculously appears in a cloud of glitter bright enough to hide us all._

Sarah was on the point of damning all past advice to hell and telling Hoggle to turn tail and run when, in a flash of steel, Arden swept forward with the sword. A breath of relief burst from her chest; she had never been so happy to see the advisor. His advances were unskilled, the blade cumbersome in his hand, but a clear point of purpose drove him on. Every swipe had a fierce will behind it, and it was not long before it found its mark. The blade slashed across the beast's upper shoulder, a flower of red blooming from its pale coat.

The creature's reaction was immediate. It halted its attack as though it had been mortally wounded, sitting back in the snow and cradling its arm to its chest. Such a low, melancholy, whimpering set about from its chest that Sarah had to fight the urge to reach out and try to comfort it. Arden did not share her sentiment. He was already moving forward for the fatal strike. And she would have allowed it, would have been content to secure some small measure of safety with a greater measure of violence. But as the sword rose above the beast's head, in a supreme moment of fear and anticipation, its eyes met hers.

Those two yellow orbs held her whole, rooting into her with surprising clarity. It was as if, in its suffering, it gained some beguiling humanity. The more she looked, the more those eyes softened, soon becoming the picture of endearing innocence. And then her brain cells were firing, and she stood, racing towards Arden.

"Stop!" she called, rushing to put herself in the way of the sword. Arden's eyes bulged from his skull when he saw her there, and he only just managed to shift the course of his blow away from her.

"What in the Underground—Get out of the way, you insolent girl." Arden had regain his grip on the hilt, and looked as though he were contemplating swinging it at her for real. Sarah ground her teeth at him.

"No, _you_ get out of the way. And don't call me girl like it's an insult."

Caught somewhere between utter aggravation and awe, Arden allowed the sword to drop back to the ground, stomping away to curse at her in some unrecognizable tongue. Choosing to ignore him, she turned back to the source of the pained cries. The beast was still rocking back and forth, its breaths coming in ragged, frightened gasps. Sarah chanced another step forward, reaching out a comforting hand.

"Ludo?" she asked gently, approaching with caution. If she was wrong about this, the beast would tear her to shreds in seconds. The muscles in her neck tightened as it met her gaze once more, a defensive growl rumbling at the back of its throat. "Ludo, it's me, it's Sarah. Do you remember me?"

"Sawah?" he groaned, eyes alighting as she pressed her glowing palm to his wound. Sparks danced their way over his arm as the healing magic took hold.

"That's right, Ludo. Sarah. Sarah-friend," she said, releasing the breath she had been holding.

"SAWAH-FRIEND." Her magic had succeeded in healing the great beast, and as the last few sparks rolled off of him, the white hair bled away, replaced by soft fur the color of rust. As soon as the transformation was complete, he buried Sarah in an all-consuming hug. She could hear cries of surprise and complaint from Will, but she was sure Hoggle would be able to explain. Just then, all she wanted to focus on was the feeling of warmth that came with being pressed close to Ludo. His fur was impossibly soft against her cheek, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as comforting as the lull of a metronome. And she could not deny, even as she pulled away, that looking into Ludo's simple, gentle eyes was like coming home.

She held on to his hand as she faced the others once more. "Everyone, this is Ludo. Another old friend of mine."

Will spoke out of the corner of his mouth, "Some friend. He almost broke my arm."

"Sowwy," Ludo sighed, hanging his head. Sarah petted his arm to assure him that he was forgiven.

"Indeed, My Lady, you do have quite an interesting collection of acquaintances." Arden looked Ludo up and down, an almost bemused expression on his face. But still, Sarah did not miss the slight in his words.

"Ludo happens to be a very special friend. I wouldn't have made it through the labyrinth without him, and if he's willing to help again, we'd be lucky to have him." With a metaphoric stomp of her foot, she smiled back at the gentle beast. "So, Ludo, what do you say?"

He seemed to contemplate for a moment, looking warily between Arden and Will. Hoggle gave a small nod, though he was still rather hesitant when it came to their largest companion. The dwarf had not forgotten being nearly crushed in the Bog of Eternal Stench. But if Ludo picked up on this, he gave no sign, his ears beginning to flop happily.

"Ludo help Sawah-friend," he announced.

"Great," she beamed in response. "There's still plenty of daylight. We should be able to make up some time if we hurry."

"Then by all means, lead the way," Arden drawled, less than pleased with the continued growth of their group. Sarah only shook her head at him, knowing that, while he might have been annoyed, he was not truly angry this time.

The path stretched out wide before them, the snow thinning down to a pleasant crunch beneath their feet. Hoggle lumbered along much greater ease, grumbling out his complaints only when he thought she had gotten too complacent with their progress. Ludo was oblivious to this, pushing forward with joyous strides. He even offered to carry her on his back for part of the way. She accepted, partly because she really was that tired and partly because she knew Arden would have half an aneurism seeing the interim leader of the Goblin Kingdom slung across the back of a common beast.

The more they travelled, the more Sarah began to feel a sense of her old self coming back. Seeing her two friends brought with a spark of her inner child, a spark that—while never entirely gone—had been trampled over and compressed by all the things people had told her she should be doing instead. Now, with Hoggle and Ludo at her side, it was as if a small tear had been made in the fabric of time. Or perhaps not a tear. Perhaps a loop. One which allowed her to return to the very moment when she was most happy. When all of her dreams, however fantastical, had been there before her very eyes, more real than anything she had ever seen or touched before. In that moment, she really did believe that she could go back. That she could transcend space and time, and relieve her greatest moments over and over again in a continuous track.

She began to consider the effect that this world was having on her. She was a different person here, of that she was sure. And what was it she had come here to do if not to find a way back to her true self? Yes, the need to rescue Jareth was a strong motivator, and maybe he wasn't completely incorrect when he said that she was frightened of her future in the Aboveground. But looking around her now, she did not _feel_ frightened. Or lost. Or daunted. She felt at one with herself.

For the first time in what felt like years, she allowed herself to smile. A genuine smile, one that arose simply because she was happy and content. It felt good to have her face stretch upward in such a light, carefree fashion. She looked around to share the expression with her friends, meeting Hoggle's eyes first. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and she imagined that he could be blushing. Ludo responded with equal joy, flopping his ears and cooing softly and making her grin all the wider. She even graced Arden with her newfound joy, though he responded with shades of vague confusion followed by utter resignation. This only made her laugh all the harder, and she looked to Will to join in her amusement. That was when she noticed.

"Where's Will?" she asked, only curious, not yet panicked. Probably there was no reason to panic. He could have just snuck off for a bathroom break.

But Arden stopped, his brow immediately furrowing. "He's not with you?"

"No, I thought he was walking ahead with _you_."

"Well, this is certainly not my fault if _that_ is what you are suggesting," the advisor seethed back at her. But Sarah was not paying attention. Her heart was racing, her smile gone.

"Will-friend?" Ludo asked, his tone disheartened. Sarah's eyes met his, trying her best to comfort him, but the swell of fear rising within her prevented it.

Where was Will? Had he gotten lost? Or worse, taken? Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps as she struggled to process. Of all the things she would never be able to forgive herself for, losing Will would be the worst. It would be her fault, and her fault alone. Truly. They had to find. Quickly, before anyone else could. And, thinking of no better plan than the first one that popped into her head, Sarah ran and began to shout.

"WILL!"

* * *

Will knew it was a stupid idea to wander off on his own. Knew it even as he took the first step off their path. He had seen first-hand the kind of dangers that lurked within these walls. Hell, not half an hour ago, he had nearly been devoured by a snow beast. But it was not logic that guided him away from the group. It was necessity.

He needed to be alone for a while. Just to think, to regroup. He would find his way back to them as soon as he could stop his head from spinning, his thoughts from racing in all manner of dark directions. A familiar sluggishness had worked its way into his bones, making his arms and legs drag rather than swing. It pressed against his ribcage with such ferocity that every breath was deep and heavy. It was the kind of dangerous tonic that spread through his bloodstream to every function part of his body and left him unable to get out of bed for days at a time. He could not afford to let that disease of mind and body overtake him here.

_Toughen up, be a man_. He could hear his father's voice as clearly as his own thoughts. The sound was not far away this time, as it sometimes was. Like he was hearing him speak through a straw. No, today it was present, close. Reverberating through him like an endless procession of echoes that got louder rather than quieter.

He never did have the courage to stand up to his father. Even when it was his mother taking the beatings rather than him. Before she had gotten the sense to leave in the dead of night, she had been his exclusive punching bag. And all Will had ever been able to do was watch, wide-eyed, frozen as he turned her rosy cheeks to swollen purple bags.

Nothing had changed since then. The beast had attacked, and all he did was stand there. Even when it was Sarah who was in danger. His best friend in the entire world, someone closer and more important to him than his mother had ever been, and he had done nothing to help. _Coward, coward, coward. _

He was nothing if not a constant disappointment to himself. Never good enough, never brave enough, never strong enough. And here he was running away again. His disgust should have been enough to drive him back towards the group, but as it was, all he wanted to do was curl up in the snow and not move for hours or days. To just sit somewhere and not have his thoughts scream at him or his reflexes betray him. To not have even to breathe.

It was looking to be finer and finer an option. There was a cluster of snow just ahead of him that was pristine and pillow soft. How easy it would be to fall asleep there. No muss, no fuss. Only numbness. Only emptiness. He stepped towards it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Will's head snapped up, surprised and embarrassed to find that he was being watched. Seated on top of the labyrinth's walls, her bare feet dangling over the side was a wraith-like woman. He noticed her beauty immediately, and she noticed him noticing and smiled. "You're not from around here are you?"

"Ugh, no," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "How could you tell?"

"If you were from here, you'd know better than to look a forest nymph in the eye. I could have put a spell on you." Will was fascinated by her mouth as she spoke, the rows of tiny white teeth seeming to glow brighter than the rest of her.

"Oh, well, um thanks for, you know…not." He made to walk away then. She was casting too great a spell on him, her words like molten honey melting through him. But as soon as he'd turned, she hopped down after him.

"And where…are you…going?" she challenged, stepping in front of him with ease. He could see her much better now, and he struggled to maintain indifference.

Beautiful she was, in the raw, ethereal way of the woods at twilight. Her white-blonde hair cascaded down her back in a mass of voluminous curls, pulled back from her face with a small set of deer antlers that exposed the blue flawlessness of her eyes. She leaned closer to him then, and she smelled of wet tree bark and nutmeg and magic. It made him dizzy, and he stumbled backwards, his gaze unable to keep from falling to the perfect swell of her breasts, covered only by a gathering of white owl feathers.

He averted his gaze once more, forcing himself to get a grip. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my friends now."

"Would you?" he eyes widened. "Funny. I thought you were trying to get away from them."

"I was, but I changed my mind." He backed away, raising his hands to show that she should not try to follow.

"Are you sure?" she purred, ignoring his disinterest. "I think what you really want is to go home."

He stopped, looking back with a questioning brow. "How do you know that?"

The flash of a grin. "I've been watching you, William. I know what you really want. And I'm more than willing to give it to you."

"You can send me home?" he asked, his ears perking.

"Of course. All you have to do…is take a bite of this." Out of nowhere she produced an apple the exact color of blood on snow. It was a stomach churning analogy for what was otherwise a delicious looking piece of fruit. Ripe, and polished, and unblemished as an apple could be. She balanced it on the tips of her fingers, holding it out to him, her hand just as delectable. And, all at once, Will knew how Eve fell.

He plucked the fruit from her palm, raising it to his face to savor the sweet aroma. Even with the skin unbroken, he caught the heady scent of sugar and spice. A distant part of him knew that this was wrong, that the smell was too strong, the desire to consume too overpowering. He hesitated a moment, but before his head could clear, his companion leant in to whisper hotly in his ear.

"Go on," she encouraged, "_Bite_."

She punctuated the sentence by pressing her lips firmly to his cheek. Will had expected her lips would warm, possibly even burn him, but they did not. In fact, they were cold to the point of lifelessness. Shivers ran down his spine as this empty thing pulled him under her the icy waves of her spell. Will fought it, fought as hard as he could, but it was too much. He did not have the willpower to pull out of the poison embrace. He raised his hand again, his teeth scraping at the skin coating the apple, bringing forth a crisp explosion as they broke through at last.

"_Will_!" the voice cut through to him before he could take the bite he so desired. Glassy and unfocused, his eyes snapped open, falling on Hoggle as the dwarf stumbled his way through the snow.

"Hoggle?" he shook his head. "What's going on?"

"Ye best come quick, Will. Sarah's in trouble!"

He was awake now, torn away from whatever reverie he had fallen into. The woman was gone, the only evidence of her existence being the apple that he still held in his hand. He spared a glance around for her, but could not find even a trace. It would have been simple to let the apple fall, forgotten, into the snow, but something prevented him. Having not enough time to think it through, he tucked it into the front of his doublet and took off in the direction that Hoggle was pointing.

Unbeknownst to him, Will was still being watched. From around the wall, Delicia's eyes followed him as she pulled off the remnants of her disguise. She grinned as her prey disappeared from her line of sight. How easy it had been to fool him. She hadn't even needed to change her appearance. Only the context in which he saw her. He had even taken the apple with him. Tediously simple.

Still, a strange desire pulled at her. It was as if she wanted to stop him, to tell him to leave the accursed fruit behind. But that would have been ridiculous. She had come too far to let such a silly sentiment stop her. No, this was exactly what needed to happen. Exactly. And that was what she continued to tell herself, even as her fingers raised to brush against her lips, warm for the first time in centuries. Strange that a mortal boy should have such a power. Though she paid it little mind. It would be snuffed out soon enough.

She conjured a crystal, focusing her attention on her prey, sighing contentedly as he plowed his way through the snow. The image of him grew larger and larger, expanding until it showed nothing but a single, determined, hazel eye...

Will was running as he never had before, the snowfall blistering his face as it drove against him. Hoggle had been left behind long ago, but he did not have time to worry about the dwarf. He would catch up. Right now, it was Sarah that needed him. And he would not let her down this time.

He followed the last of Hoggle's footsteps around the bend, seeing Arden and Ludo standing together. They were gazing out at something. Will squinted. At Sarah! They were looking at Sarah.

Relief flooded through him. Whatever danger Hoggle had spoken of must have passed. Sarah was simply standing there, less than a hundred feet away, in the middle of a barren tundra. She did look strange though. She was facing away from them, her arms spread out as if for balance. And she stood as still as possible, almost like she was afraid to move.

Will took a step towards her, confused by Arden's call for him to stop. But as soon as he had placed his foot down, he understood. A groan arose from beneath him, the unsteady surface swaying under his weight. Even at a distance, he could hear the thin cracking of ice below Sarah's stationary form. The sound spurred her, causing her to risk a glimpse back at them. Her eyes latched on to his. Even at a distance, he could see that they were laced with fear. Wide and pleading in her round face and impossibly green. They cut through him as easily as a meat cleaver.

"_Will_," she breathed out, her lips trembling, and somehow he heard it. He reached a hand towards her, desperate to take another step. But the ice splintered again, and he was forced to withdraw.

He could only watch as a frozen tear stuck to her cheek.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys, it's been a minute! I'm so sorry for the lack of updates over the last few weeks. Life happens, you know? Sigh. But here, at last, is the next chapter in the saga. This is the halfway point for this story, so things are about to get crazier, darker, and deeper than ever before. The characters are really going to start taking shape, so hold on tight.**

**On that note, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to upload every Sunday as I was before. I've still got school to worry about and what not. But have no fear, I have every intention of finishing this fic. I will continue to write as I have time, and I will post chapters as I finish them. Thank you all for your patience and for the continued support. **


	12. The Blackness in Your Heart

**Disclaimer: **Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson and co.

**Chapter Title: **from "O' Sister" by City and Colour

* * *

The face of the Goblin King shone with a thin sheen of sweat, visible only in the faint flickering of the sole torch. The Brownie jailors watched with beady black eyes as his head lolled this way and that without any clear purpose. He was unaware of his movements, of where or who he was and had been ever since the fever dreams had descended. They had dragged him down with their heat and their wicked claws into places he feared to tread. Much like the labyrinth itself, his mind had its fair share of oubliettes; dangerous pits that needed to be approached lightly, on tiptoe, lest he fall into one and shatter.

But weak and delirious, he no longer had the strength to avoid them. They rushed to the surface, taking over his mind like a dangerous disease.

In the fever dreams, he was a child once more. A child, a prince hurdling down the stairs of the castle, cold wind in his hair and eternal summer in his eyes. Back in those days, he had breathed in the air of mischief, tearing about with the awkward, spindly legs of a newborn foal. Goblins had been pushed aside left and right, the creatures pausing only to shake their heads at these antics. They'd borne their young prince no ill will. He was only a few decades old. There would be time enough for discipline later. Or so they'd thought. For a child as talented as he was in constant need of supervision.

He would devour volume after volume of spells and incantations, coming forth each day with a new and devious trick. One day he might turn the cook bright yellow, the next make it so that all of the bars of soap smelled of unicorn dung. Everywhere he'd gone, trouble followed. Followed with the special, vicarious light that shone only on the most talented.

A delight he had been to kings and courtiers from kingdoms near and far. He could enchant them with spellbinding illusions far more complex than any of his peers; there was not a guest who came through the doors that left unimpressed. They had patted him on the head and passed him something sweet to eat.

The prince had been loved throughout the Goblin Kingdom by all but one. His father, King Septus, was less than impressed with his whimsical magician of a son. This the prince knew. There were times when he was practicing his magic when he had felt his father watching him. It had not been the good kind of watching either. Not the proud, steady observation of an approving mentor. No, there had been something…dangerous about the way his father watched him. With eyes that had burned into his back as though, in staring long enough, he could smite this child from the earth. The prince hadn't like these moments; they made him feel strangely empty, like all of his insides had suddenly dissolved.

When the feeling became too powerful to endure, he would approach his father, beg him to instruct his weary son in pursuits that were more pleasing to him. Then Septus would nod, clamp a firm hand on his son's shoulder and lead him to a different part of the castle. A darker place, where footsteps were made to echo, but screams did not carry. A shiver would pass through the Goblin Prince whenever he walked these halls. A shiver that could only be suppressed by the flagrant desire to impress his sire.

And in the darkest, dankest room of the castle, where chains rattled from the ceilings, and sludge caked the floors, and where the sun had never touched, young Jareth had cut his teeth on spells of darkness. He had watched as a small goblin was brought in, trembling pitifully. The creature stank of fear. Or had that been him? He had glanced back at his father, to the man whose grin cut through the darkness like the point of a carving knife. What had he meant to do in bringing him here? What could such cruelty towards another creature ever hope to teach him?

"_It will teach you to be strong_," his father had breathed back, seeming to read his son's mind, "_To be a man. How can you expect to rule if our subjects do not fear you_?" His father had leaned closer then, whispering in his son's ear what he expected him to do. The prince had swallowed the lump in his throat, turning to face his would-be victim.

_Show it its fears_. With sweaty palms, the prince had summoned a crystal, a slippery thing that had almost slipped his grasp as it rolled to his fingertips. And gazing into the opaque orb, he had summoned a most frightening illusion.

The goblin's screams rang in his ears for days after. An always-there reminder of the darkness that now swirled permanently at the edges of his vision. It was possible that, given time, it could have grown to swallow him completely. Would his father have been pleased? The young prince could not be sure. For there was something that pulled him back from the tantalizing pit of night. A single source of light so overwhelming that it could drive away every terrible thought he had ever had: his mother.

Her face radiated perpetual sunshine, her hair flowing long and lustrous over her shoulders like strands of beaten gold. Her eyes were not cold and harsh as his father's, but kind and prone to finding the goodness in all creatures. She kept as many goblin maids around her as she did ladies in waiting, treating each of them with the same amount of measured respect. As though they were the queens instead of her.

Jareth loved better than anything to spend his days in her rooms. There was always music there, and new books to read, and courtiers to entertain. When she was not too busy tending to her guests, she would brush out her son's unruly hair with her gilded combs. He remembered intensely the distinct pleasure of each bristle running along his scalp, tickling and massaging in dual part. And when it was finished, his mother would tie back the longest strands into a low ponytail secured with black ribbon.

"_How handsome you look_," she would croon, standing behind him in the mirror. And he would beam at his own reflection, despite the fact that a few untamable strands still stood up at the front. If it was good enough for Mother, it was good enough for him.

There were days spent in her company in which the prince thought it impossible to ever be unhappy. He learned, quickly, what a youthful folly that was.

Sometime in his first century, his mother sat him down and explained that he was to have a younger brother or sister. He had only blinked in response, uncomprehending. It took him a moment to express his displeasure.

"_Babies are stupid_," he had huffed out. His mother's face had shriveled in an instant. It was the first time he had seen her look so wounded. He was ashamed to have been the cause of it.

"_Don't say that, Jareth. Having a baby is wonderful, _magical_ thing_," she told him. But there was something in her tone that almost made it seem as though she were trying to convince herself just as much as him. Not wanting to upset her further, Jareth had agreed, promising that he was excited to meet his new sibling.

Over the next few months, he had watched as his mother changed. Her stomach ballooned in front of her, a comical sight to Jareth on most days. He began to delight at the prospect of having a permanent friend to play with. One which became all the more real when his mother allowed him to place his hands on her swollen abdomen to feel the baby kick. He could not help but giggle when he felt the very definite pressure push against his hand.

"_Does he kick very often_?" Jareth asked. He had made no secret of hoping for a younger brother, though his mother insisted on reminding him that it could be a girl.

"_Constantly_," his mother had replied. Jareth tried not to notice how tired she looked when she said this. She was still beautiful to him, even with dark rings under her eyes.

Beyond the physical changes—which were abundant enough—Jareth began to notice other changes within his mother as well. She was sharper in her responses to him, less inclined to give him her apt attention when he performed a new illusion. And there were times, not often, but enough to take notice, when she seemed frightened. Of his father. She would flinch slightly when he entered the room, sometimes even to such a degree that she would squeeze Jareth's hand with excessive strength. On other, more frightening occasions, she would ignore his father's presence completely. As though she were entirely unaware of his presence there. This would enrage the king to such an extent that he would slam his fist down up the nearest table, demanding the attentions of his wife and son. Only then would his mother rise, go to her husband, and right whatever he had misplaced with his outburst.

Jareth began to worry about her, and one day finally drew up the courage to ask her if she was feeling alright. Without looking at him, she had replied in the slow, dreamy way she had of talking: "_I'll be better once it's out of me_."

Her words did little to soothe the Goblin Prince. He disliked the way she referred to the baby as an "it." He knew that it was impossible to tell if the baby was a boy or a girl, but using "it" did not feel right either. But there was little he could do about it, other than to hope that his mother was right. That things would return to normal once the baby was born.

How foolish his hopes had seemed when, in the middle of the night, he had awoken to his mother's screaming. For many minutes, he lay in the dark of his room beneath the covers, wishing that it was only his imagination. It was only after the screams became louder and more frequent that he began to cry. It seemed ages before his old goblin caretaker came to collect him, making soothing noises in his ear as she rubbed his back.

The little prince did his best to stifle his tears. His father would be waiting after all, and he had long since made it clear that he did not think it fit for the heir of the Goblin Kingdom to shed tears. By the time he was presented to his father, there was only a faint puffiness around his eyes, but Jareth could see that the king knew. His disapproving glance made fresh tears spark at the back of the prince's eyes; it stung to hold them back.

Father and son entered the queen's chambers together, Jareth taking care to quiet his footsteps so as not to disturb his new sibling. But when at last he saw his mother, he could contain himself no longer. She was sitting up in bed, holding a small bundle close to her chest, beaming down at it like the sun shined within her once more. His heart clenched at the sight, and the Goblin Prince ran to her side.

At once she turned her smile at him, beckoning for him to sit beside her on the bed. Once situated, she had leaned close, showing him the contents of the tightly swaddled blankets. The baby was…small. Certainly the smallest thing Jareth had ever seen. And fragile in some inexplicable way that made him almost frightened to sit too closely.

His father did not seem to share the concern. He stood gruff and uninterested at the bedside, looking down on the scene with little less than a glare. "_What do we have, wife_?"

"_A daughter, my king_," the queen replied, clutching the bundle to her breast once more and refusing to look away from her child's face.

"_Humph_," came the unamused response. The king circled the bed once, as though to inspect the child from all angles, before stopping to place a hand on her forehead. Without another word, he swept from the room.

Undeterred, Jareth sidled up to his mother once more. "_She's…beautiful_," he had exclaimed in wonderment.

"_She is_." Tears that Jareth could not quite pinpoint the cause of stood in the queen's eyes. He pressed closer, wiping them from her face with his thumbs. She smiled at the gesture. "_We'll love her enough just the two of us. It's better that way._"

She had pulled her children close then, promising them both every happiness. Trapped there, breathing in the mingled scents of baby's breath and mother's milk, it had been impossible not to believe her words. And believe them he had in the weeks that followed. He spent as much time by his mother's bedside as possible, helping in whatever way he could. His baby sister cried often, but it was no matter to him. He could quiet her with his ever hypnotizing crystals or a carefully chosen song. The gentle spell of his youthful tenor was always enough to rock her to sleep. His mother thanked him profusely for his aide, often taking the chance to sleep at the same time as her daughter. There were times when Jareth wished she would stay awake to talk to him, but he knew it was important for her to rest in order to regain her strength. It was nearing on a month since the birth, and the queen had yet to leave her bed for more than a few minutes a day.

It was another two weeks before the prince began to be shoved from the room to make way for the healers. Every day it seemed a new one arrived, offering some new way to treat their ailing queen. Jareth did not like the way they looked at her. Like she was some dying thing deserving only their pity. And always, _always_ they spoke in whispers. As if he were too dim-witted to glean what they were saying. He was a big brother now; hardly a child anymore, and a prince besides. He knew what they were whispering about, and he knew that they were wrong. Mother would not die. She just needed her rest.

The weeks of sickness dragged on until both prince and princess were permanently barred from the room. The nurses tried to separate the two children, but Jareth would not have it. They had already taken his mother from him; they would not take his sister too. He was the only one who could sing her to sleep.

"_Don't worry, Delicia_," he had whispered to her one afternoon. "_We'll see mother again soon_."

How quickly a promise could come true. The very next day, one of the nurses came to collect the prince and princess and deliver them to their mother's room. Relieved to finally be reunited with her, Jareth had run ahead, stopping only when he saw what awaited him on the bed.

"_Jareth_," his mother sighed, as delighted to see him as ever. But that was the only familiar thing about her.

Hallow cheeks and sunken eyes greeted him. She gave a halfhearted smile, her thin lips curling outwards to split her narrow face almost in half. She looked skeletal, and feverish, and _old_. And her hair—her beautiful, golden hair—lay limp beside her in an unimpressive braid. The prince faltered in his approach, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.

"_Mother, what's happened to you_?" he whined, fighting the infantile urge to suck on his thumb.

"_Oh, my sweet boy_," she said in response, opening her arms wide to him. It took him less than a heartbeat to launch himself into her embrace, pressing his face into her neck as though to hide behind her. How warm her skin felt against his cheek. Too warm. The tears came faster. She shushed him and stroked his hair, pushing him back just far enough so that she could take his sister in her arms as well.

The three of them remained in each other's company for the rest of the day. For once, the Goblin Prince said very little. A sense of finality had permeated the scene, one which left little need for words. Even Delicia remained quiet, as though she had developed a preternatural sense of knowing that this was an occasion which called for silence. As the sun set, though, Jareth found courage enough to ask the question that burned at the front of his mind.

"_Mama…what is going to happen to us_?" He felt his mother stiffen beside him. She sat up as best she could then, determined to look him in the eye.

"_I want you to listen to me very carefully, Jareth_," she said, the last of her strength seeping out of her eyes as they burned into his. "_I won't be with you for very much longer, so I need you to remember this now. Are you listening to me_?"

_"__Yes,_" he whimpered.

She waited another moment to ensure she had his full attention before speaking. "_Love is the most powerful kind of magic there is. You may not have me for very much longer, but you will have your sister. And the two of you will need to look after one another. It's important that you never forget that._"

"_Mama, please don't go_," he begged, holding fast to her arm. He could hear the nurse at the door and knew their time was short.

"_I don't want to go. I want to stay and see you and your sister grow up._"

"_Then stay. You don't have to go. Please, Mama, please!_" He clung to her with all his might, but the nurse was incessant. She pried him away, reminding him that it was well past his bedtime. The prince did not care. He did not think he would ever sleep soundly again. But in time, the nurse got her way. Jareth was herded from the room, even as his mother called after him.

"_I love you, Jareth. I love you both. Remember. Remember what I told you._"

She was gone by morning.

Jareth was directed straight from his bed to the throne room, where the thirteen hour vigil would take place. His father was there already, kneeling before the glass coffin that contained all that was left of Jareth's mother. His father seemed barely to notice that his son was in the room. He seemed not to notice anything at all. Delicia's bassinette had been set up beside him, the child already having worked up a deafening wail despite the early hour. Jareth moved towards her first, but his father interceded, snatching him by the wrist.

"_Let her cry. It means she's strong._"

The prince took his place kneeling beside his father. He would have liked to cry, but knew it would only beget him a slap on the back of his hand. How odd that crying could be seen as strength in his sister and weakness in him. But, dutiful child that he was, he did not shed a single tear in all the long thirteen hours.

_She must weep for me_, he thought, glancing at his sister. _I can shed tears only on the inside. _

When it was over and he was free to go to her, Jareth looked down into the red face of the screaming infant. He wanted to pick her up, to comfort her in any way he could, but his father beat him to it. The king hoisted his daughter into his arms, holding her above his head to marvel at her.

"_Strong, I tell you. Strong enough to kill her own mother with her birth alone._"

Jareth felt sick. "_It's not her fault_," he had tried to insist.

"_Just think_," the king continued, "_of how powerful she'll be. Killed a queen before her first birthday._"

Strains of jealousy were beginning to break through the prince's nausea. "_We don't even know what her powers are yet_," he huffed, indignant.

But even as he spoke, something in the room began to change. There was a chill in the air. Frost began to collect on the windows despite the sunlight, and ice crept up the throne room walls. Delicia shrieked louder than ever, squirming in her father's arms like she never had before. And as the ice gathered, the king began to laugh. A dark, throaty laugh that chilled Jareth more so than the frost that surrounded them.

He shrank away from his father and sister, backing up until he bumped into the raised coffin. The glass had frosted over several times, making it impossible to look within, but Jareth pressed his hand to the lid anyway. It was the best he could do to clutch his mother's hand.

The cold continued to spread through the air, seeming the freeze everything in the castle exactly where it was. To Jareth, it felt like he would never again know warmth or sunshine. Like everything he had come to cherish had been rooted out by ice and replaced with a frigid emptiness. Strange how life could change so abruptly in the space of a day. How a heart could turn icy in a matter of hours. Strange, strange how everywhere he looked, he saw only the absence of what was not there rather than what was. How cold…

And the strangest thing was: the feeling never quite went away.

* * *

"Get up," a voice urged. The fever dream came to an abrupt end, the palace walls melting away to prison ones. And the round-faced baby sister he once knew was transformed into the woman before him now.

"As you wish," he replied, doing his best to seat himself with some level of dignity. When he had managed it, he waited for her to speak.

She blinked at him once, obviously confused as to why he had not pressed the conversation further. "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?"

"Not unless you feel inclined to tell me, sister-dear."

Her eyes narrowed on him in her suspicion, though she tried, as ever, to mask it. "What's gotten in to you? Finally resigned yourself to your fate?"

"Not quite," he admitted. "If you must know, I was reminiscing. Thinking about old times. Memories…"

His sister visibly stiffened at that. "Why would you want to do that?" Her voice was quiet, just on the edge of seething.

"They weren't all bad. Before Mother died—"

"Before I was born you mean."

"—And when we were children. You weren't always such a terror."

"Goodness sake's, have you gone mad? I was _terrible_ to you as a child."

Jareth let out a sigh that turned into a laugh. "Yes, I suppose you were most of the time. Do you remember when the Troll King came to visit?"

"I might recall a certain amount of mischief surrounding the event," she mused, the barest hint of amusement showing in her eyes.

"Mischief?" Jareth stared back at her incredulously. "You tricked me into a broom closet and froze my shoes to the floor! And after Father had lectured us all week about the importance of punctuality. It took me three hours to escape, and by then my feet were completely numb. I ran out of the broom closet and straight into the Troll King."

"You didn't make half as much a fool of yourself as I expected you would."

"I knocked him into a barrel of Elf-made wine, staining a doublet that had been in the family for generations."

"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten that bit." She laughed then. A genuine laugh, one that was free of malice. It was a magical sound, like the tinkling of bells during the first snowfall of the season. It brought back with it some of the easier days of their childhood, when he had still been able to make her laugh with abandon. He had almost begun to believe he would never hear it again.

It was almost a shame that it was only a part of his plan.

"Delicia," he began, interrupting her smiles. "When did it go wrong between us?"

All semblance of happiness was wiped clean from her face. Her eyes were hard once more, and her jaw clenched. "It was always like this."

"No, it was not," he ventured, monitoring her reactions. _Careful now_, he coached himself, _She needs to feel sympathy, not pity._ "I cared for you once. And I believe that you cared for me as well."

"_Once_," she enunciated, not looking at him. "Perhaps."

"Well why shouldn't it be like that again?"

"Hah," she exclaimed, "You think we could forgive each other our grievances so easily? You _have_ gone mad."

Jareth bit his tongue; he was losing his grip on her. Not entirely surprising given his state, but still, it was a lapse that could cost him. _You'll have to try harder than that if you want to fool her_. Letting out a forlorn sigh, he spoke again: "Mother would have hated to see us this way."

_There_! he thought, noticing the way her fist clenched. He continued to watch her as she tried to collect herself.

"I suppose I wouldn't know," his sister eventually replied. "I don't actually remember her."

"You look like her," he blurted out in response, immediately regretting it. Delicia locked eyes with him, a slightly panicked look lingering beneath the cerulean irises.

_Bastard_, he cursed himself. _You were supposed to keep her calm, sentimental. Now she'll run off faster than you can say 'oubliette.' _

But his sister remained where she was standing, barely seeming to breathe. Her eyes had drifted from his face down to her hands, the thing fingers weaving together. "I'm nothing like her," she whispered.

"You—" Jareth began, thanking the stars he had been given another opportunity, but she cut him off before he could proceed.

"_Nothing_ like her. Mother was timid and weak. I killed her without even having to try."

"Is that what Father told you?"

"It doesn't matter what Father told me. It's the truth, isn't it?"

Jareth ignored the question for the time being. He needed to use the opportunity she was providing him. "Delicia, you don't have to believe everything he tells you."

"Why shouldn't I? He is the High King of the Underground. His word is law," she countered almost as soon as he had spoken. "And he was right, after all. Mother _was_ weak. She left before I could string two words together."

"I'm sor—"

"Don't," she snapped at him. "Don't you dare say that. 'I'm sorry.' _Pathetic_," she spat, circling the room once more. "I don't need you to make apologies on her behalf. I was better off without her. Stronger. _No one_ is as strong as me."

"Sarah is," he flung back at her, casting the last stone he had to throw.

It had the desired effect. Delicia took a step back as though he had struck her, her mouth falling open even as she did. "_What_ did you just say?"

"Sarah is as strong as you," he plowed ahead with all the more bite. "Stronger probably. She can turn nightmares to daydreams in the blink of eye, and she'd walk through shards of broken glass as though they were flower petals if it meant getting what she's after. She's stronger than you…And I think you know it. That's why you're so determined to be rid of her too, isn't it? You're frightened of her."

"I'm frightened of no one," she swore.

"You're lying," he accused, "and not very well." He paused a moment, wanting to get the next part right. When again he spoke, his voice was softer, gentler. "I think you've grown tired of this game, sister. You're casting spells without intention, so to speak. But it's not too late to take it all back. You can put an end to this, now, without consequence."

"It is," she breathed. "It is too late." She put her arms around herself, rubbing up and down like all the centuries of ice that she had laid down had finally caught up to her. Had he not been chained to the wall, Jareth might have reached out to her.

"It's not," he cautiously promised. He was growing frustrated with his inability to get through to her, and frustration was an emotion he could not allow to get ahold of him. His plan was a precarious one, and now more than ever, he needed to say the right things. "Sarah will forgive you. She'll understand. The two of you…aren't so different really."

Delicia's head snapped up at that. "What do you mean?"

"Her mother left her as well. If anyone could begin to understand how you're feeling, it would be Sarah. She will forgive you," he said again, hoping to drive home the point.

"_You_ won't," came her reply.

Jareth was shocked by her response. It sounded so honest. Which gave him more than enough cause for suspicion. Delicia was disingenuous as a matter of habit. Surely he had not broken through her walls so easily. Could she be trying to manipulate him into thinking she still cared about his approval? Had the whole conversation been nothing more than an act to lull him into thinking that he had gained an advantage over her? Or—worst of all—could she be telling the truth?

The questions he posed drove him to high points of anger and low points of guilt, but in the end, they all boiled down to one fixed pondering that had been grating on the fringes of his sanity for years: _Why does she always have to be so infuriatingly frustrating? _

"Ask yourself, sis: Is there anything you've done that I would not forgive you for in exchange for _letting me out of here_?"

He had misspoken, and in that instant, they both knew it. Delicia's eyes widened, for a moment seeming to fill with hurt. Then, an almost imperceptible shift occurred, and she retreated back within the safety of her frozen heart. She smiled.

"So, this is what it's all been about?"

"Delicia, I—"

"No, no, no. No need to explain. I understand perfectly," she giggled to herself. "All this talk of sentiment and memory…It was really just of means of tricking me into letting you go. I don't know how I didn't see it before. How silly of me."

"Listen to me," he begged, kicking himself for making such a dire error. "I was not lying to you. Let me go now, and I will not seek to retaliate in any way. I'll see that Sarah is kept safe somewhere in the Aboveground where she cannot hurt or be used to hurt you. It's _not_ too late."

But his sister was paying him no more mind than a change in the direction of the wind. She had produced a crystal and was staring into it with amused fervor. "You asked me, dear brother, if there was anything I had done that you could not forgive me for. And now that I come to ponder it, I do believe there is." She tossed him the crystal and disappeared.

"Delicia? _Delicia_!" he called after her, half desperate and half enraged. "What did you mean?" he muttered to himself as he tried to get a clear image of what was going on with the small orb.

Then, he saw it. It was Sarah standing in the middle of a frozen plane. She was crying, the air fogging in front of her as she released short, panicked breaths. His grip on the crystal to tightened to such a degree that it would have cracked if such a thing were possible. She was trying to move now, edging her way closer to the outstretched hand of her companion. Jareth watched—waited—with bated breath. She was almost there. So close…So close.

She fell through. It took less than a second between the ice cracking and her head sinking beneath the water. Less than a second for it to swallow her whole.

_Come on. Come on. Swim!_ Jareth prayed to himself. But she did not resurface. Not after three seconds, and not after ten. It was as if the river had swallowed her whole. And all that was left to see was an endless field of ice.

"Sarah," he shouted at the unfeeling glass. Even as he did, he knew it was no good. She could not hear him. And unless she called for him...

"Delicia," he called, louder now and ever more frantic. "Delicia, come back. Come back, and we can fix this. It's not too late. It's not too late!"

_Too late_, he thought as he collapsed back against the wall, more exhausted now than ever before. He continued to call their names in his mind, but always the echoes of 'too late' came back. They were lost to him.

* * *

**A/N: Ahhhh where have I been?! A thousand apologies to everyone who has been following this fic. I wish I had a better excuse for this dreadful hiatus, but what it really came down to was a lost muse. But I've been working on getting it back, so hopefully I'll have more frequent updates from here on. Many thanks to you all for your continued support.**


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